


A Matter of Family

by firefright



Series: A/B/O fics [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Bat Family, Canon-Typical Violence, Cute Kids, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, Intersex Omegas, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Omega friendships, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Abduction, Parenthood, Protective Parents, References to non-consensual body modification, Revenge Quests, Roy Harper is awesome, Trust Issues, hinted Dick/Jason ahead because I literally cannot do otherwise, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 60,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5145134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharing his heat with Talia had been a mistake. Jason had known that as soon as it was over, before he'd even said <em>yes</em>, but now it's become clear just how big of a fuck up he's made of what was supposed to be his second chance.</p><p>A baby wasn't in Jason's plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So originally I was planning on waiting to post the first chapter of this until I had the whole thing more or less completely written, however the more I write the longer it's turning out to be! So I figured I might as well throw the first part up and see what you guys think of it :)
> 
> For those who are unaware, this fic is a what-if spin off of my previous omega!Jason story, A Study in Acceptance. It's not entirely necessary to have read that fic first, but it may help provide some context!

The first time Jason throws up he's standing over the wreck and ruin of Egon's operation. He thinks it's a natural reaction to the first time you kill a man, the ghost of regret rearing its head before clarity of purpose sweeps the feeling away; a final goodbye to the ideals of a mentor he no longer believes in.

He doesn't question the taste of bile, just wipes his mouth and kicks snow over the mess, before escaping off the property ahead of the approaching police sirens.

When it happens the next day, and the day after that, never at the same time, that's when he starts to question.

Later that week, Jason meets Talia in a cosy little German pub. He holds his tongue about his bouts of sickness, as much as he's tempted to tell her. The scent neutraliser he's wearing should cover up the smell of illness, or whatever the fuck it is, as good as it does his designation, but Jason still finds himself watching her, trying to spy some indication that she sees through his bluster as he tells Talia precisely why Egon deserved to die. 

When she lets him go again with nothing more than directions to the next dealer of death who'll take him under their wing and the packet of suppressant pills he'd asked her for, he thinks he's gotten away with it.

There's a train to catch, but before he heads for the station Jason makes a brief pit stop in the local pharmacy to buy two home pregnancy tests. He uses cash, because he's constantly conscious of the fact that Talia is tracking any digital purchases he makes with her money, as much as she pretends the accounts are his. 

It isn't until he's on the train that he uses one, and a positive result has never been so damning.

Jason swears, then rips open the packaging to the second test. Waiting is torture as the seconds tick down. The plus symbol appears again on the tiny digital display, and Jason snarls as he forces open the window of the tiny bathroom to throw both pieces of evidence out into the German countryside. 

By the time he makes it back to his seat he's sweating under his clothes from a barely restrained panic attack.

Sharing his heat with Talia had been a mistake. Jason had known that as soon as it was over, before he'd even said _yes_ , but now it's become clear just how big of a fuck up he's made of what was supposed to be his second chance. How the fuck could he have done this to himself? And just what the hell is he supposed to do about it now?

For a while Jason carefully focuses on pretending he's seen nothing, felt nothing. The darkness outside the window makes it easy at first, until it starts to remind him of being inside his coffin instead. Swallowing, he turns his eyes down to his lap.

He needs to think, needs to make a plan. And he needs to do it before the train reaches his stop.

 _Jason Todd_ , he thinks to himself: murder victim, killer and now unwed teenage mother. If ever there was a perfect example of a self-fulfilling prophecy from Crime Alley, it's him. Sometimes you just couldn't escape the place you came from.

Having a baby right now is not in his plans. Having Talia's baby is even worse, nay, probably _the_ worst idea, because while Jason's head may have gotten bashed in with a crowbar a few many times before the Lazarus Pit fixed him up he still remembers Ra's al Ghul and his goals in life.

If he were to find out about this he'd either kill Jason again, or lock him up, waiting to see if the kid he's carrying is a male alpha or not. If it is...

His stomach curdles and for a moment Jason thinks he's about to throw up once more. He forces himself to breathe through his nose and out his mouth until the urge passes.

There's no way he can let that happen, no way. Talia might help him if he tells her, but Jason recoils from the idea almost as soon as he thinks it. She, and his own poor life choices, got him into this mess, so he'll take the risk of getting himself out of it.

He just has to figure out how.

 

*

 

In Berlin he visits five different banks, withdrawing as much cash as he can carry from each one into the duffle bag he bought at a sports store. Afterwards he walks back to the train station, buys three tickets digitally, another two in cash, and leaves four of them out on a bench in the hopes some enterprising soul will go for the lucky find of a free ride.

He knows there's only one place to go to be safe, once he finally dismisses the idea of visiting an abortion clinic, only one place he can hide from the Al Ghul's with the certainty that they'll never be able to get to him or his baby.

 _His_. His baby. It still doesn't feel right to think that, but he's getting there.

The train he boards will carry him all the way to Amsterdam if he lets it, except he jumps out early when it slows down at a level crossing in the middle of some town whose name he doesn't know until he asks around. After that Jason starts hitching lifts.

He has to break the wrist of the third driver. The alpha didn't seem to care that Jason wasn't broadcasting his designation, whispering to him with whiskey sour breath that he was pretty enough no matter what he was as he put a meaty hand on his thigh. Jason doesn't feel at all guilty about kicking the creep out onto the roadside with no phone and no wallet, then hauling ass in his newly stolen car. Alphas like that, if they do it to one person it means they've done it to a dozen others. 

It occurs to him later that he should have killed him, realistically, but he's in too much of a hurry to turn back around. Lucky for the creep.

Jason burns the car before he sneaks across the border into France, then hops aboard a cargo train bound for Paris.

 

*

 

He spends the long hours of the train ride cramped in amongst the boxed up goods, wondering just what it is he's doing. Whether he's really prepared to give up everything he was planning on for this... this _barely_ there kid inside him.

Taking on Gotham's underworld? Freeing the Joker? Pushing Bruce into finally dealing with the freak with his own two hands? It's all going to be impossible if he keeps this baby. And Jason's not one of those conservative types, raining hellfire on an omega's right to choose, but the idea of snuffing out this small life before it even has a chance to begin still feels all kinds of wrong to him.

Similarly, the idea of giving it to a fucked up care system sticks in his gut too. Jason knows what that's like, and he'll never let any kid of his go through the experience if he can help it.

The thing is - the thing _is_ that he might not have to go back to Bruce if he doesn't want to. He could try and hide by himself instead, out in the middle of nowhere, or in the middle of a bustling city. Those are options he could try first.

Bruce though is -

He's still _home_ , and warmth and safety, in the part of Jason's head that's talking strongest now. The base instinctual part. He's the only man who ever stood up to the wrath of Ra's al Ghul with the entire League behind him and _won_.

When it came down to it, when he initially tried to think of somewhere safe to run to, Gotham and Bruce was the first option that popped into his head.

What that says about him after everything, he just doesn't know.

 

*

 

Jason's off the train before it crawls to a halt in the yard, dodging spotlights and security guards before hopping the fence. He managed to sleep a little during the ride, but mostly he's tired and sore and ready for something a little more comfortable.

Unfortunately he's not going to get that, as he heads immediately for the airport, stopping only to grab some food from a street vendor. Jason feels gross, vaguely sick as he forces each mouthful down, but doesn't let himself throw up. He'll need all the energy he can get for the next leg of his journey, and every minute he hesitates is another chance for Talia or one of her cronies to catch up to him.

There's no direct flight to Gotham from Paris, because the French have a little more taste than that. He has to pay to go to New York first, then get a connecting flight from there to the city of his birth. He's planning alternative routes around that before he even enters the gate, hauling his big bag of cash over his shoulder as carry on luggage.

Jason throws up twice before they touch down at JFK, and he wants a cigarette so bad it feels like the cravings are eating him alive. He lets himself waste a whole minute staring at the tobacco display in one of the airport stores before forcing himself to step back, having read enough 'Smoking harms your baby' labels to last him a lifetime. That part of his life is over too.

He thinks he's starting to get the whole thing about parents being willing to sacrifice anything for their kids. It hurts when he thinks about Catherine, makes him angrier when he thinks about Willis, Bruce and Sheila.

Jason decides right then and there that he's going to be a better parent than any of them ever were. His kid won't ever feel unwanted, or abandoned, and certainly not forgotten by those who claimed to love them the most, he'll make sure of it.

He still goes and hires a rental car, even as he starts to make further adjustments to his plan.

 

*

 

Jason's halfway into the drive when he starts to wonder if he's being overly paranoid. He's had precious little sleep in the last forty-eight hours and that's more than enough time for his mind to start playing tricks on him, never mind the lingering effects of the Lazarus Pit.

With that thought he checks into the next roadside motel he sees. The price is too high for such a crappy joint, yet he doesn't care. Not when he lies down in the dark with a knife under the pillow, listening to the cockroach's crawling around in the walls and the sound of someone fucking two doors down, not when he's too tired to even think anymore.

"I don't have to go home." He whispers to himself in the dark, like a reverse Dorothy Gale, "I don't."

Jason presses his hand to his stomach, imagines for a moment that he feels movement there, and let's himself fall asleep.

 

*

 

There are shadows around the bed that don't belong when he wakes up.

 _Too easy_ , he realises. It had all been too easy so far.

For all the red herrings he'd tried to throw, and all the unusual paths he'd taken, he'd still been predictable in heading for Gotham. All Talia had to do was watch the roads in and out of that Godforsaken city to find him. He should have changed his mind about it sooner.

He never should have thought of going there in the first place.

"Jason." God, he can smell her. It shakes him down to his core and he hates it, hates it so much.

Whether she'd consciously done it or not, helping him with his heat had been a manipulation as much as an aid, and he'd been too stupid, too mixed up on Pit crazy and hormones to realise. It's made him more receptive to her presence by default.

"Send the spooks away, Talia, if you want to talk." Jason tightens his grip on the hilt of the knife beneath his pillow as he says it.

Talia waves her hand, and when she reaches over to click on the bedside lamp it's only the two of them in the room. He doesn't relax. 

"Jason, why did you run away?" She's sitting in a chair that he doesn't remember being there before, back straight, hands folded in her lap. Talia looks like a queen, set apart from her dilapidated surroundings.

Jason sits up, too uncomfortable with the vulnerability of his position to stay lying down any longer. He clenches his jaw as he looks her in the eye, "I changed my mind."

"About?"

"Everything." His hands are tightened into fists, his heart is pounding. Fight or Flight? Neither is a good option. "I can't do it, Talia. Not anymore."

"Really. And what changed your mind?" Talia leans forwards, hair sweeping across her shoulders. She looks so concerned, so perfectly reasonable and it makes Jason feel young and stupid, makes him grit his teeth as he kicks off the covers. "You must forgive my scepticism. You were all fire and fury when I saw you last, ready to make my Beloved suffer."

"You said this was my choice." He shoots back at her, "You said you were helping me. Well now I've changed my mind, I don't owe you an explanation for that."

Talia narrows her eyes. "I think you do. You ran from me like a criminal. If it was truly so simple you would have told me this to my face three days ago. You're hiding something, Jason, and I want to know what it is."

Her voice softens suddenly, and she reaches out to touch his jaw, thumb sliding up under his ear. Jason's skin crawls at the fresh wave of scent she broadcasts over him. It's a classic alpha technique to calm a skittish omega, and he's never taken very kindly to those. "I care about you, Jason. Whatever it is, we can work through it together."

"No, no we really can't Talia." And then he watches, horrified, as she draws her hand back, reaching up to brush it across her nose. _Scenting him_. 

There's some things day old neutraliser just can't cover, not at that proximity.

_Fucking bitch!_

Jason is up on his feet as Talia's eyes widen, shock disrupting her perfect composure. He backs a step away, presses his spine up against the stained wall and clutches the knife tighter in his hand as he bares his teeth. 

"Jason -" 

"It's mine!" Jason snaps, snarls whole-heartedly, as she rises from her chair. "It's mine, you can't!"

Talia stays perfectly still, and if that's sympathy in her eyes then he can't fucking stand it. "I know."

He frowns, trying to calm his suddenly roiling stomach. The last thing he needs is to throw up again, especially in front of Talia.

"Oh Jason," She sighs at his open suspicion, like she's actually saddened, actually _hurt_ by his words. Maybe she is. "Is this why you ran away from me? Did you think I would harm you for this, harm the child?" Talia's gaze softens, "Or that I would take them from you?"

"Are you implying you wouldn't?" Jason says hotly. "I'm not exactly mom material, right? Just the fucked up mistake you took under your wing, slipped up in literally fucking, and when your daddy dearest finds out what's he going to do, take it calmly?"

Talia's expression turns cool. "I _did_ take you under my wing, Jason. I picked you up from the streets of Gotham, I saved you, protected you, _healed_ you at risk to my own life. Gave you access to the training and the tools you need. I have kept you safe from my father's wrath for months. I thought, in that time, you might have come to have a little more faith in me."

No, he thinks, that's not how this is supposed to go down, it's not supposed to be this way. Talia isn't supposed to make him feel _guilty_ of all things. This is about protecting his child. "I had to be sure."

"And sure is returning to the man who betrayed you? A man you wished to kill?" Talia doesn't move forwards, but she holds her hands out to him, palms up and open. The pheromones she's broadcasting change subtly, from angry to protective. "You'll lose everything you've been working for if you return to him, Jason."

He wavers, snarl still painted on his lips, but no longer growling. It's still a warning not to approach or touch him, but less of an immediate 'get out'. "I _know_. I'm not going back to him."

"It looks like you are."

"I was," Jason admits, "But I changed my mind."

Talia takes a step forward, just one. "Then let me help you."

"Why?!" He almost shouts, drawing his lips back further over his teeth in warning. Jason's not going to let her 'alpha' him into doing what she wants, he'd been taught better than that. Batman wouldn't have an omega sidekick who couldn't stand up to the manipulations of every alpha villain they came across, after all. "I'm not getting rid of it, and I'm not letting you take it away either."

"I do not wish to do either of those things." Jason can see the flicker of anger in her eyes again for a moment, there and gone. "As to why, it's simple. This is my child too, Jason. I wish to see them safe and protected as much as you do, I wish to know them." Guilt hits him again as Talia sighs. "I always wished for a child, but well..."

Her and Bruce. Both alpha's, both incompatible in that department. Maybe another reason on the pile of why that didn't work out.

His stomach roils uncomfortably, and he presses the hand that isn't holding the knife against it. "Say I believe you," Which he doesn't, not yet, "How would you help me?"

Jason knows he's put Talia on the spot, he watches her pause to think it over. A whole thirty seconds pass before she starts to talk again. 

"We go back to what we were doing, to begin. You keep going to the teachers I find you, I keep up appearances with my father." Talia's voice gets stronger as she keeps talking, her conviction building. "In the meantime I will set aside a safe location, one for you to retreat to when it becomes impossible to hide the pregnancy any longer. There will be guards, staff, people I trust implicitly to hide you. They can help you continue your training as well, until such time as the child is born."

Put him in an isolated location, surrounded by people loyal to Talia, someplace it'll be even harder for him to escape from should he feel like trying this again. His jaw clenches. "Then what?"

"Then you stay if you wish, you raise the child, and I will be there when I can." She dares another step forward, her scent strengthening as she lifts one of her hands, offering it to him. There's a gleam in Talia's eyes, "And if you still want your revenge, you can take it knowing our child is safe."

And there it is, the one thing that could tempt him to accepting her plan.

Jason stills, questioning himself, his instincts, trying to sort what is clear-headed thinking and what is being affected by the pheromones in the room. All his rage, all his anger, none of it disappeared with the news, it just got pushed under as his priorities shifted.

Does he still want to confront Bruce on what he did, what he _failed_ to do? Of course he does! He wants to reach his hand into Gotham's festering heart and bring it out, covered in honest filth, and thrust that into Bruce's face. He wants to make him see that with some monsters there is no cure, the only option is to cut off the head.

He wants Bruce to prove that... that Jason _means_ a damn to him, that his death wasn't just another statistic in a long line of numbers.

It hits him then, just how much he misses Bruce and all that Bruce meant to him; father, alpha, protector, teacher, all the things he was and no longer is. Can no longer be. The thought makes his anger blossom all over again, fresh and vicious because if it was Jason and someone hurt or murdered his kid? He wouldn't stop even if he had to burn the whole fucking world to the ground to pay them back. 

Jason's fingers tighten over his stomach.

"I have conditions." 

The ever-present _green_ at the back of his mind fucking sings in triumph as he talks.

"Name them." Talia keeps her hand held out to him, ever patient.

"This safe place, I don't want more than five of your people around me there. You're not surrounding me with one of your personal armies, Talia." He tells her, eyes narrowed. Five is a number Jason is sure he can handle, no matter how fat he gets. "Somewhere quiet, somewhere safe and _normal_. You got me?"

She looks displeased at his demand, but nods.

"Second," Jason starts to feel good the more he talks, twirling the hilt of the knife through his fingers. "I'm not your mate, you're not my alpha. You're not even my pack. What we had, what we did, that was a one time fucking deal. Don't act otherwise. If you try and pull any alpha bullshit over me, we're done." 

He's no one's meek little omega. Never has been, never will be. 

"Third," and this is the big one, the most important one. "I'm this kid's mom, their dam, and you're their sire. Yeah, you get a say, I'm not denying that, but the final decision will always lie with me. So if you try anything to take this kid away from me I will make you regret it."

"I understand, Jason." There were icebergs floating off the Arctic with more warmth in them than Talia's voice right now. He's upset her with his demands, but Jason honestly doesn't give a fuck. "Then we're in agreement? You will stop trying to run?"

Jason looks down at her hand, ignores the prickling in his neck (the voice of reason in the back of his head that sounds like Bruce) and takes it in his own, gripping tight enough to almost hurt. "Yeah, okay."

It feels like he's making a deal with the devil, but the devil had his claws in Jason Todd long before Talia al Ghul ever did. He thinks he can handle it.

 

*

 

When he's five months along, Jason's one-man tour of assassin-endorsed murder school comes to an end.

His stomach's gotten big enough that even baggy clothing isn't enough to disguise what's going on underneath it, so he makes his excuses to the explosives expert he's been learning from in merry old England and takes a chartered flight to Canada of all places. Jason can't say he's ever been fond of the cold, but as a place to hide it's not too bad.

Talia's hideout is a pretty chalet, a half-hours drive out of the nearest town. It comes with six bedrooms, its own generator and water source, as well as five members of staff. Ostensibly only three of them are supposed to be his bodyguards, the other two a cook and a midwife, but Jason's fairly sure they're assassins too.

When the cook sits down to teach him poisons on his third week there, he's certain of it.

Despite that fact, and everything the rest of them have to teach him, he quickly starts to grow bored in his isolation from the rest of the world. Even the internet, and three separate books on pregnancy and early childcare, aren't enough of a distraction to keep him busy for long.

By the time he hits seven months he's practically frothing at the bit for some action.

Talia visits him then, arriving in a swirl of snow and wearing a fur coat that might've cost the entire annual wage of your average American family. He hates her on principal for that, never comfortable with the idea of flaunted wealth when there were children starving in the streets, but mostly he's grateful to hear of the outside world.

"Margrete tells me it's a boy." Talia says to him, after weathering his initial bombardment of questions. Her hands are wrapped around a mug of coffee, while he has hot chocolate. Jason really misses getting to indulge in full-bodied caffeine.

"Yeah." He answers, because there's no point in denying it. Margrete, the midwife (a no-nonsense beta he'd instantly developed a fondness for because of how much she reminded him of Leslie Thompkins) made use of the local doctors office to give him a scan soon after he first arrived. Male or female was all it was possible to differentiate when babies were in the womb (and even then, female alpha's could be tricky), the rest of the designation would have to wait until the baby was born. "Kicks like a mule too."

Talia smiles and Jason tries not to feel pleased by it. She's not his alpha, not his mate, it's just hormones and loneliness talking. "He is strong, that is good to know."

Under the table he presses his hand to his stomach, feeling the rounded curve of it. Baby hasn't moved for a while, Jason thinks he's sleeping. "Well, my bladder doesn't appreciate it. Little monster has me pissing about ten times a night."

"Jason!" Talia laughs, and it's real and pleasant, fondness sparking in her eyes.

Jason grins back at her and it almost feels like it did at the beginning, when there was so much less complication between them. 

_Stop it_ , he tells himself. It's instinct, pheromones, and nothing more, his body crying out for the comfort of an alpha when he doesn't need it. "What? It's true. Kid's got it out for me already."

"Have you thought of a name?" Talia asks, when she's stopped laughing at him. 

"No. Not yet. Something-something Todd, I guess." Jason shrugs, because he really hasn't considered it at all, too wary of letting himself think that far ahead. Getting through the here and now is hard enough some days.

"Todd." And there it is. Talia's expression doesn't betray anything, but Jason knows that this going to be a point between them.

Jason drains the last of his hot chocolate and braces himself for a fight. "Well, al Ghul kind of stands out from the crowd. Figure he'll be safer with something more common."

"Jason -"

"I told you at the start, Talia, this is my kid first. I'll decide what's best for him, and what's best is that he doesn't carry Ra's surname around." He narrows his eyes at her, "Don't tell me you don't agree."

"No. I agree." Talia runs her fingers through her hair, and she looks so beautiful with her red painted lips that it makes him shiver. Pregnancy enforced horniness, it's a bitch. "I would still like a part in naming my son, though."

That was easier than he expected, which makes Jason all the more suspicious. "Like what?"

"I like Damian."

"Damian, like... the kid in _The Omen_?" Jason rubs his stomach when he feels a flutter of movement inside him. "Don't you think that would be asking for trouble?"

Talia sighs, "Damian is a perfectly respectable name, a powerful name. It is nothing to do with some foolish American horror movie." 

Easy for her to say, Jason saw that movie when he was thirteen thanks to some kids at school, it left an impression. He restrains a sigh of his own, "I don't know. Maybe as a middle name?" The flutter turns into a kick and he hisses out loud. "God damn it!"

"What?" Talia looks a little alarmed, "Jason?"

"He kicked. Told you, it's like a fucking mule." Jason leans back in his chair, keeps rubbing small circles over the spot. The baby doesn't seem inclined to stop now that he's started.

"May I feel?"

"Huh?" Jason blinks at the sight of Talia's nakedly eager expression. "Uh, sure."

He pushes back his chair from the table as she stands up and walks around, the soft click of her heeled boots on the tiled floor echoing in his ears. Apprehension springs up as Talia kneels before him, as she lifts her bare hand and presses it next to his own on his stomach. Jason feels too warm suddenly, uncomfortable. The baby doesn't kick.

"Damian." Talia says softly, her thumb brushing back and forth, coaxing. "Damian."

Jason forgets how to breath for a moment when one of those little feet impacts against his insides, right under the spot Talia's touching. Her smile is resounding, breathtaking. She says the name again, to the reception of another eager kick and he can't help but feel like he just lost something.

Jason takes a breath, counts to five. _Damian_. 

"I'll think about it."

 

*

 

Damian is born two months later, in the middle of a bitterly cold November day.

It goes pretty smoothly, all things considered it's his first birth. Jason hardly needs any help from Margrete at all, except for when it comes to the clean-up. He eschews the bed for a nest on the floor, and also ignores the tighter quarters of the walk-in closet that many omegas would have found comforting. It's not his fault that waking up in a coffin left him with mild claustrophobia.

Damian's a pretty big baby, all things considered, and it hurt like a bitch getting him out, but he's here now in Jason's arms, ten tiny fingers and toes. Jason's never seen anything like him.

Hormones again, he knows, body chemistry working to make sure that they bond so Jason won't be inclined to leave him out on the side of a road somewhere, but it's still magical. Better even than Robin magic. He bends his head and sniffs the top of Damian's dark tufted head, learns a smell he'll never forget so long as he lives.

It seems like his son's a tiny alpha-to-be, of course he is. Part of Jason is relieved for how much easier Damian's life will be because of it, while the rest of him worries what it will mean if his assassin grandfather ever finds out he exists.

"Not going to let that happen, baby boy." He croons, low and sweet in a way he never has been before. "I'm going to keep you safe and sound."

Talia's on her way apparently, so said one of the bodyguards to Margrete, who passed the information on to him. Jason doesn't rightly care.

Eight hours later, when she does show, he and Damian have both slept and eaten. His son is dressed in a bouncing baby blue onesie and Jason's barely let go of him. He's not sure he can ever let go of him, which could put a real crimp on his long term plans.

She knocks, then opens the door without crossing the threshold. "May I come in?"

Jason tenses and self-consciously tugs the blankets a little more tightly around the sleeping babe in his arms. He could say no and she might do as he asked, omega's with newborns are known to be a little twitchy. That's not him though. "Yeah." 

Talia knows enough anyway to not come too close. She walks in and halts five feet away from his nest, before sinking down onto her haunches to make herself look less threatening. There's an undeniable longing on her face, her attention devoted to the wrapped up bundle in his arms that she can barely see because Jason has Damian turned against his breast.

"Margrete told me it went well." She talks without looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Jason winces, then corrects himself. "For having pushed another human out of me, anyway."

Talia nods, distracted, and he wonders if she even heard what he said. He probably could have told her he felt like Batman tap dancing naked on the moon and she would've given him that same vague nod. "And the baby?"

"Damian. Eight pounds and seven ounces, screamed like a banshee for a while, but we're on good terms now." Jason's being flippant. She already knows this, her eyes and ears inside the house will have told her everything there is to know, so he has no idea why she's bothering to ask him. "He... he's something else."

"May I see?" 

He's not going to hand Damian over to her, that Jason decides right away. Instead, after a moment of talking himself into it, he pulls apart the blankets enough to uncover his son's face and shifts him around in his hold so that Talia can get a good look at him. 

Jason wonders if that's the way his face looked, when he saw Damian for the first time.

"He's magnificent." She breathes, hushed and awed, visibly sniffing as she tries to catch Damian's scent. Magnificent isn't exactly the word Jason would use for a baby, but that's Talia. She's all upper crust and cultured, which only makes it funnier that she ended up siring a kid with an orphan from Crime Alley. They're about as far apart in terms of good breeding as you can get.

Damian snuffles, one tiny fist waving through the air, and a quick glance tells Jason that he's still asleep. He wonders what it is newborns have to dream about. "Yeah, yeah he is."

"And is he...?"

"An alpha, by the smell of him. I'll know for sure in a day or two." Jason tries not to say it like it's a bad thing. A portent of doom.

Talia sees through him, and there's something in her smile, sad, but - he narrows his eyes. "What is it?"

"My father is dead."

"What?" His mouth falls open in shock. "Ra's?"

"Do I have another father?" Talia's face closes off, expression turned tight and angry. Her scent takes a distinctly aggressive edge that forces him to have to bite down on a whine. "He is dead."

"How?" Jason asks, when he's got control of himself again.

"Batman." She steeples her fingers together, raising them before her lips. "Now..." Her eyes are intent as they look at Jason, really, finally look at _him_. "When you punish him, it will be for both of us. He must suffer, he must lose that which he values most."

That can't be the whole story, but whatever Bruce's part in it was, it's clearly big enough that Talia no longer cares about holding Jason back. He makes a mental note to remember that for when Damian's old enough that Jason will actually be able to part from him long enough to pull off that plan. Otherwise he's still too tired to ask for more detail right now, not when their son is sleeping in his arms.

"Count on it." Jason turns Damian back to his chest, tugs the blanket back into place around him. He won't say he's sorry about Ra's because it would be a lie, the guy was a madman and he's glad his kid is safe from his machinations. "Guess that puts you in charge of the League, huh."

"Yes." Her gaze goes back down to Damian. "If only it had happened another way..."

Talia moves from a crouch to a sitting position, moving with all the grace that Jason's body forgot these past couple months when he was too fat to do anything but waddle. She looks like she wants to come closer,and he's beyond grateful when she doesn't. He doesn't know how well he could hold up against the influence of her scent in his current state. "It will be a better world for Damian, a better inheritance. I will make sure of it."

"Whoa, Talia," Jason feels uneasy as he settles back into his mound of pillows and blankets. "Who said anything about him inheriting?" He's too tired for this shit, but too alarmed not to keep talking. He should ask her to leave, and he will, in a moment.

"It's his birthright."

 _No way in hell_. Jason thuds his head back against the wall. Somehow he manages a more diplomatic answer. "Talia, he's not even a day old, it's kind of early to be thinking about that, don't you think?" 

Damian chooses that moment to squirm in his arms, softly whimpering. Jason glances down and see's his dark eyes open, instinctively knows it's the beginnings of a cry, meaning he's probably hungry again.

"I'll let you rest." Talia says, and that's not an answer, it's really not, but Damian's stealing Jason's attention. Later he tells himself, hearing her walk back out the door, he'll confront her on it again later. Right now his son needs him.

 

*

 

It only goes downhill between them from there.

Talia stays for a week, long enough that Jason finally grows comfortable enough to let her hold Damian for short periods, as his rational mind once again starts to win out over heightened instinct. She's his sire, he should know her scent, but it still feels like a relief every time Talia hands him back over.

"You should come back with me." She tells him, "You no longer have to hide here with my father gone." 

But Jason quickly refuses on that point. He likes the Canadian chalet, with its minimal staff, far more than he would one of the League's greater headquarters in the middle of who-the-fuck knows where. The house has come to feel almost like home, and the last thing he needs is the stress of travelling with a newborn, as well having to get used to a new, unfamiliar territory.

Talia isn't happy about it, but she accepts his decision.

For the first month he doesn't do much but dote on Damian, who completely cures the incessant boredom Jason had to put up with before he was born. He's hooked, he knows, but it's an omega leaning that he is for once happy to go along with. 

It's not like heat, which leaves him feeling horribly vulnerable and useless, or even how he felt during pregnancy, held back by the discomfort of carrying Damian around inside him. This is _love_ , this is something that gives him strength, because Damian is small, needy and fragile, and Jason knows with all his heart that he'll give everything he has, up to and including his own life (again), to protect him.

Every movement, every sound, they all get filed away in the back of Jason's mind. He learns to interpret the subtleties of Damian's moods, how to identify his needs by the particular pitch of his cries. It's pretty easy at first, since all Damian cares about doing is eating, sleeping and being close to his mother, and even the unpleasant parts, like changing his dirty diapers, become routine.

It isn't until they hit the one month mark that Jason feels sufficiently recovered to start working out again, shedding the last of the baby weight with a strict routine. Damian stays snuggled in his moses basket at Jason's side while he does push-ups and stomach crunches, and studies the latest news reports out of Gotham that Talia keeps him supplied with.

She video calls every week when she can to check on Damian's progress, in-between working to secure what remains of the League under her leadership. For the sake of peace Jason goes along with it, sitting his son in front of the camera while Talia gazes fondly out at him, but still shuts down any conversation regarding the possibility of Damian becoming the new Head of the Demon in the distant future. 

That's not what he wants for his son. Once Jason's dealt with Bruce he'll be taking Damian out of here and finding somewhere new for them to live, out of the sphere of costumed heroes and secret organisations. He wants Damian to have a chance of normalcy, a shot at the kind of life Jason never had even before he tried to jack the tires off the Batmobile.

It'll mean trouble in the future, he's sure, but Jason's prepared to dig his heels in and fight when the time comes.

 

*

 

Damian grows surprisingly fast. Sometimes it seems like Jason only has to blink and he's moved onto a new stage of development. 

His eyes turn to a dark shade of green, and he definitely has Talia's copper skin tone, but otherwise Jason likes to think that Damian looks more like him than he does his sire. His dark crop of hair is Jason's, as is his nose, which becomes more evident as his face loses the last of that squished up look that newborns have. He learns to roll over, and then by the time he's six months to sit up all on his own.

But more fascinating to Jason than the physical development is the emergence of a definitive personality in his son.

Damian as it turns out is something of a very serious baby. He doesn't babble a whole lot, as Margrete tells Jason most babies do, and his smiles are reserved almost exclusively for his mother. Otherwise he stares out at the world with a look of intense concentration that seems more suited to someone far older than he is, even when he's playing.

"He has old eyes," Margrete says one day, in her thick Swedish accent, holding Damian while Jason readies his bath."It is no bad thing. It means he will be wise when he's grown."

Jason turns to take him, lifting Damian up under his arms so they're face to face. "Is that right? Well, Dami, let's hope you turn out smarter than me."

Damian squints at him for a solid thirty seconds, then proceeds to drool all over his shirt. 

"I'll take that as a yes."

Talia turns up, completely out of the blue, at dinner, where Jason's working on getting Damian acclimatised to eating solid foods. Well, what counts as solid food for a baby anyway, he had no idea how many different flavours came mashed up in goo before now. Six months is a good age for weaning babies, and Jason wants to move onto suppressants before his heats kick back in, even if he'll miss the closeness of breastfeeding.

Her scent clues him in as soon as she opens the door, and Jason whirls around in his seat as instinct makes him jump to attention, ignoring Damian's fist hitting the top of his high chair in complaint when the spoon misses his mouth. "Talia?!"

"Hello Jason." Talia smiles as she comes to join him at the table, "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Uh no, it's dinnertime." Jason keeps staring at her. "No one told me you were coming."

"It was spur of the moment." _Bullshit_. Nothing was spur of the moment with Talia, let alone flying thousands of miles across the Atlantic. "Hello, Damian. How you've grown."

She reaches over to brush her finger over one chubby cheek, then chuckles as Damian looks at her in confusion. It takes a moment for recognition to dawn, as Damian pairs the woman whose face and voice he only knows from video screens with the real person in front of him. When he does he lets out a soft coo, before banging his hand demandingly on his high chair again.

"Sorry," Jason says, not sorry at all. "He gets grumpy when he's hungry."

"Understandable. May I?"

Jason finds himself handing over the tiny jar and spoon, moving so that Talia can take his seat in front of Damian. He pulls out another chair and sits to the side, foot tapping out a restless rhythm as he watches her spoon food into Damian's mouth. "Watch out, at least half will end up down his bib if you're not careful."

"Noted." She's not half bad at catching the goop that spills out of Damian's mouth for someone who's never fed a baby before, and Jason contents himself with watching for a few minutes before saying anything further. It's almost like they're a real family, like in one of those Hallmark movies Jason saw far too many of when he was pregnant (in his defence, daytime TV sucked, and he needed some measure of what normal family life was supposed to be like before Damian came out).

Finally, when the jar of mashed sweet potato and chicken is mostly empty, he interrupts the silence. "So, things under control with the League?"

"Aside from a few rogue elements, yes, the League is mine." Talia looks unabashedly pleased as she says it, wiping Damian's chin. He's due a bottle after, but Jason waits on heating it up, watching Talia unbuckle their son from his chair so she can hold him in her lap. "Things are moving forward quickly, and I have interesting news for you as well."

Jason snags the empty jar and plastic spoon, carrying them over to the sink. He rinses out the jar and drops the spoon into the dishwasher. It's easier to talk to Talia when he has something to do with his hands, keeping his mind focused and out of her influence. "Yeah? In regards to what?"

"Your revenge." Talia says mildly, but she can't miss the way Jason's spine straightens and his shoulders go rigid at the mere mention of the word. "I hear you've been keeping up with your training."

"What's the news, Talia?" Jason has a laser focus when it comes to this subject. 

"There is a man in Gotham right now, he is called Hush. He has his own plans for the Detective, I think it would be... an opportunity for you, a starting point if you two were to talk." She looked meaningfully at him. "If you're still meaning to go ahead with it."

"Of course I'm still going ahead with it." Jason barely avoids snapping back at her, indignant at the idea that he might have lost his nerve for the plan. "Bruce has to pay."

"Yes, he does."

Jason turns away from the sink and crosses back over to them, leaning down to gently press the back of his knuckles to Damian's soft cheek. Warm, and full (for the moment), Damian coos contentedly, holding onto a handful of Talia's hair in his fist. He seems fascinated to have her here, real and touchable, and Jason wonders if there is some part of Damian's mind that still remembers her scent from that first week.

The movement puts his face close to Talia, and he has to close his eyes for a moment at the heated spice of her scent at such proximity. He wishes she bothered to wear neutraliser or perfume like most heroes and villains did, but then again she didn't exactly operate with a secret identity. "So, how do I contact this guy?"

"I can arrange a meeting for you in Gotham, it will have to be soon, before his plans move forwards."

Jason froze, eyes stuck on Damian, "In Gotham?"

"I know, Jason, that it will be difficult for you to leave Damian for a time," Even though he'd always known that going against Bruce would mean leaving Damian in the care of others, he hadn't been prepared for the possibility to come up so _soon_. "But it will only be for a couple of weeks this time."

His teeth sink into his lip. "This time."

"Jason, if you're having second thoughts -"

"I'm not!" He snaps, for real this time, "I'm - oh jeez, sorry little man." Damian's happy expression has dropped off his face at Jason's irritation, and Jason hurries to sooth him, stroking his fingers over his cheek. "It's alright, I'm not mad at you."

Damian, like all children, was sensitive to the moods of the adults around him.

He drew in a deep breath, "Just tell me, Talia, if I go meet this guy, will it be worth it?"

"Oh yes, Jason." Her voice was a dark purr of promise, "It will be worth it."

 

*

 

That's how Jason found himself in Gotham a week later, far ahead of the schedule he'd initially had planned.

Hush was an interesting enough fellow, bandage fetish aside, and once Jason dropped him enough tasty details about the Batman he readily agreed to let him play a part in the caper. Just a quick here and there appearance, just enough to rattle Bruce's cage before Clayface stepped in and made him think it was all a lie.

He thrills to it, loves it. His heart beating a mile a minute in his chest, all that anger and rage allowed to fly free as he holds his replacement to his chest, a knife at his throat. Jason leaves that encounter with a bone deep sense of satisfaction, and even enjoys a chili dog from Brent's before hightailing it back out of Gotham's poisoned borders for Canada once more.

It's been fun, sure, but he'd spent every minute of every day missing Damian while he was gone. Talia's secure lines had never been so abused during those first few days of parting, and Jason had listened to every word of his son's behaviour in his absence with unsteady hands.

Talia had stayed with him, citing a need to get to know Damian better - after a heated discussion in which Jason still refused point blank to allow him to be taken to a bigger League location in Asia - and Jason had reluctantly agreed. Kids... kids should know both their parents, even if one is the international head of an assassin cult.

It's not like he can talk, as a former costumed sidekick who'd come back from the dead. Jason's just glad this business will be done before Damian's old enough to remember it.

He bounds up to the house, once the guards have disabled the security to let him through, and seeks out his son and - whatever relationship it is that he and Talia have. Jason finds them in the nursery.

Talia's holding Damian while he bounces up and down in her arms, one chubby fist holding onto a stuffed tiger that Jason doesn't remember them having before, but the moment he sees his mother he drops it with a delighted squeal. Jason doesn't even hesitate in pulling him from Talia's arms.

"Hey squirt!" He brings Damian in close, cradles him in his arms and tucks his head in against his neck while he breathes in deeply of his scent. "Guess who missed you more than anything, little man."

Oh God he had, he had so much. Jason's been tamed without knowing, utterly wrapped around the finger of someone who can't even crawl yet. He doesn't want to think about how doomed he'll be once Damian's mobile and _talking_.

Talia leans back on her hands. She's actually dressed down, or what counts as dressed down for her, simple black pants and a white blouse. "So it went well then?"

"Mm?" Jason is too distracted in smelling the top of Damian's head, running his fingers over his face and limbs to check he's okay, to process what she asks at first. "Oh yeah, it went great. We really gave Bruce a fright."

Hush's plan had failed in the long term, but Jason had expected it to, and that failure left things nice and open for when he would go back in a few months time. All that mattered was that he had gotten what he wanted.

"Good." Talia stands too, one of her hands resting on Damian's back, while the other closes on Jason's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Jason, and when the time comes, I know you will succeed in doing what is necessary."

He flushes, pleased, and in that moment all the discord between them no longer matters. He feels as good as he did killing Egon, filled with the conviction that he was right above all else.

"Yeah." Jason smirks, nosing Damian's hair again. "Yeah, I will."

He has no idea how much he's going to regret those words in the months to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Talia's not answering her phone.

Jason sags back against the wall of the apartment he's hiding out in, trying to keep a lock on the worry he feels. Talia always answers her phone promptly normally, but it might be nothing. Might be something as simple as a baby related incident in progress - like when Damian had overturned his first birthday cake all over the floor two and a half months ago, only a few days before Jason left for Gotham.

 _Oh God_ , he thinks, _Damian._

His head is spinning, and he's a mess from top to bottom, body bruised and broken. Nothing is okay, nothing may ever be okay again if Talia doesn't _pick up her phone_. "Come on, come on..."

Jason hits redial with a vengeance, but it rings through to voicemail again. "Talia, Talia, pick the fuck up!" he shouts into the receiver, wincing as his movement pulls at the raw wound on his neck, left by Bruce's batarang. "Talia please. It's all - I need you to pick up."

It's all fucked, everything's fucked up.

 

*

 

Eventually all calling Talia's number gets him is a dial tone. His emails bounce back from every address he tries and the bank accounts she gave to him are frozen.

Terror doesn't even begin to describe what he feels.

 

*

 

Getting back to Canada doesn't take more than a day. Jason was careful enough that he still has plenty of cash to burn from running Gotham's drug trade for a couple months, and the fact he's a dead man means Bruce can't put out an alert on him through normal law enforcement; not if he doesn't want to risk Jason's existence being traced back to him. It's a cold comfort as he stiffly disembarks from the plane, hires a car, and hightails it back to the chalet, breaking every speed limit there is along the way.

He's pretty sure if some police officer tried to pull him over now he'd shoot them without a second thought, good guy or not.

No one answers him at the gate, so Jason abandons the car and vaults over the fence, hissing at the pain the manoeuvre causes his cracked ribs. He forcibly ignores the pain, except to snarl at the way it slows him down as Jason proceeds to sprint the rest of the way up the road to the house. 

Jason knows something is wrong. He knows he needs to brace himself for disappointment, but he's still not prepared for the sight that greets him when he makes it to the top of the hill.

The chalet is burnt to the ground.

He falls to his knees, hands flying to tear at his hair as a howl escapes his lips. Everything is gone. All his plans smashed to ruin. The Joker's alive, and he's lost his son! He lost his son to -

 _Talia._ There can't be any other explanation. No one else even knew that Damian existed outside of her, himself, and the members of staff she'd installed in the house with him. It can only mean one thing.

It's Talia who's taken Damian. Talia who orchestrated the ruin of the only real home Jason had since he'd crawled back up out of his grave. Sure, he'd always known it was never going to be permanent, but damn it, he'd given birth to his son here! This was where Damian had lived the first year of his life, and now it was gone! All for the sake of Talia's machinations.

She'd never meant to respect his wish for Damian to be allowed the opportunity to live a normal life. 

Or at least, she hadn't once Ra's was out of the picture. Before that Jason believed Talia had really been willing, but her father's death had opened the chance for her to lead the League and take it in the direction of her own vision: a vision that included Damian one day standing at its head as his own person, rather than as a new puppet body for Ra's corrupted soul.

"Fuck!" Jason punches the ground, his already bruised knuckles scream pain back at him for it. He'd been fucking played, and he should've known it! Why hadn't he? How had he been stupid enough to fall for her ploy?! Talia had even said what she wanted for Damian to his face multiple times and he hadn't actually believed that she would go ahead and do it without his blessing.

He thought... he thought he'd _known_ Talia in those last few months. He'd let himself get complacent as they play-acted at being a family, and let her encouragement for him to not give up his original plans for Gotham and Bruce blind him to the truth. God, he'd actually _trusted_ her, and just like everyone he'd ever lent his trust to in life she'd gone ahead and thrown it away. He'd been so hopped up on anger, on his thirst for vengeance, that he had let himself be blinded to the danger right in front of him. 

Maybe Talia had expected him to fail all along, or hoped that he would. If he'd fucked up and Bruce had captured him...

A growl rumbles low in his throat. If that was so, then she'd fucking miscalculated hadn't she? Jason might've failed, but he was still here, still free, and that meant this was far from over. Suddenly he didn't give a shit about the Joker, or Bruce, or anything else he'd left behind him. Only one thing mattered now.

Getting Damian back.

"Don't worry, little man." Jason mutters, reaching up to wipe at his blurring vision. "I'm going to find you." Even if he has to burn every League facility on Earth to the ground to do it.

Talia's going to regret the day she decided to cross him.

 

*

 

It's easier said than done, but Jason is determined, and armed with all the deadly skill Talia herself gave him the means to learn, as well as a whole lot of righteous fury.

Society had plenty to say about how dangerous an omega was when their children were in danger, or taken from them. There was even a whole sub-genre of revenge flicks based around the subject. Gory sexualised affairs usually, but not without some basis in reality; the rise of studied omega histories in recent decades had provided plenty of examples for modern fiction to base itself on.

Personally Jason doesn't give a shit about any of that crap, he knows what he feels, and that's all that matters. A new obsession has quickly risen to replace the old, and he pours himself into getting his son back without a moments hesitation.

The first thing Jason does is pool all the money he has left together and use it to buy himself fresh equipment and intel from his few remaining reliable sources, because taking on the League of Assassin's is going to take some serious weaponry, then saves the rest for acquiring transport to where he needs to go. He tells himself he'll figure out what to do when what's left of his funds run out later.

His immediate instinct - past the urge to tear Talia's throat out - is to return to the manor house that housed the Lazarus Pit she had shoved him into. The house where Jason had spent the better part of a year as a walking talking, ass-kicking vegetable, but he quickly dismisses it as too obvious; the only thing he's likely to find there is a trap.

Most of the League is to his knowledge based in Europe, or, most predominantly, Asia (hence why Talia had hidden him and Damian in Canada). The latter was home to the League's oldest and most secretive strongholds, which makes it more likely as a destination for Talia to have holed herself and Damian up in. Jason wishes he could say that narrows things down, but as it is that's still a massive chunk of the world to search through.

He unofficially buys his way onto a cargo plane going to Tokyo from Montreal, then takes a connecting flight to Beijing. After that it's another flight (this time aboard a smaller private plane) to Kathmandu, and Jason thinks he'd be glad not to have to step foot on another plane for at least a month. It's a relief to be able to hire a jeep to take himself the rest of the way to his destination.

His gear, hidden in a specially designed case made to fool X-ray scanners and metal detectors, is stowed safely in the trunk, though Jason keeps a couple pistols and his kris on him at all times. Talia probably has her people looking out for him, now that she has to know he escaped imprisonment at his former-mentor's hands and Jason doesn't intend to be taken unawares every again, so much so that he sleeps in the jeep each night rather than risk a stop at a hotel. There's no such thing as unreasonable paranoia when dealing with assassins.

Jason also buys and smokes his first cigarette since he found out he was pregnant with Damian. He smothers the slight guilt he feels by swearing he'll stop again when he gets him back, but right now Jason needs something to take the edge off the constant stress eating at the corners of his mind. It works about as effectively as it did when he was twelve and living off Gotham's streets, which is to say not much at all. The familiarity of the habit alone is comforting though.

The base in Nepal he's going after sits high up in the Annapurna trio of mountains, though not near any location that tourists visit. Officially it's disguised as a monastery, one that does not welcome visitors, and it takes some serious off-roading before Jason even gets close. The sensation of his ears popping at the gain in altitude is a fucking unpleasant one - and that's before he even starts the _real_ climb.

Jason leaves the jeep as close as close to the base as he dares, pulls on the heavy duty insulated clothing he'd acquired back at the last town alongside his climbing gear, and waits for the sky to darken before he begins to ascend the rest of the mountain. Climbing's not a skill Talia needed to have him taught, he'd already learned that one at Bruce's heels from the tender age of twelve; so he's pretty expert at tying the lines and digging into the icy rock with his hands, feet and pick. Owning a vigilante-grade grappling gun doesn't hurt either. 

Truth is, Jason reflects as he uses night vision binoculars to scope out the layout of the base from a small ledge on the cliffside, he doesn't expect to find Talia and Damian here. Not even a little bit. This place is just a starting point, a way to get his foot on the ladder so to speak, because someone inside has to have answers - or at least enough of a clue to point him in the right direction, and that's all he's asking for. He'll take them down, interrogate and then move on.

Rinse and repeat.

One man alone has an easier time of sneaking in than an army does of breaking down the front doors of a League facility. The fact that this one is so isolated from any other sliver of civilisation means that the guards don't seem to believe anyone would be mad or determined enough to scale the sheer cliffside in the dark, rather than drop in from a helicopter or take the steep stairway up, also works in his favour. Even ninjas got complacent after living undisturbed for a while, only jumping to attention when the big brass came calling.

Jason spends an hour counting the timing on the guard patrol before slipping over the walls just at the right moment, dropping silently down into the courtyard before skirting round through the shadows to pry open a window. There's an alarm system wired into the shutters, one that Jason easily disables without a moments pause. 

The fact that this building isn't home to a normal monastery wasn't at all obvious from the outside. Even the guards patrolling the walls kept up the pretence of Buddhist monks, with robes and staffs for protection rather than firearms. No, those were saved for the two henchmen waiting just inside the main doors, and Jason takes down those men swiftly and violently from behind before they have the chance to shout an alarm into their radios or get off a single shot.

Bones and faces break beneath his fists, and it feels pretty damn _good_ to take out some of his anger and frustration on other people, but Jason hasn't got the time or energy to be interested in incapacitating every person in the building solely in hand to hand combat (because despite what the movies said, even a gun with a suppressor on it wasn't actually that quiet). So instead he sneaks around until he finds the dormitories which house most of the base's currently sleeping population, uncaps the seal on a couple canisters of knock-out gas, and rolls them into the room before anyone inside even has a chance to stir at his presence. That's Jason's biggest problem dealt with, leaving him with just the rest of the night guard and the head-honcho to deal with personally, wherever they might be.

Jason leaves the dorms behind him to head deeper inside the base,taking his time despite his impatience to make sure to clear every room he passes. He doesn't need any nasty surprises popping up behind him because he was careless.

Half an hour later he finds the man in charge of this compound working at a large bank of computers which are probably filled with enough data of dirty League activities to occupy Batman for months. The fight that ensues is fast, hard, and leaves Jason with a new round of cuts and bruises by the time it's done. Men and women didn't get to higher positions with the al Ghul's without displaying both formidable skill and loyalty. 

"Talia," Jason demands when he's got the guy pinned to the floor with a knife through each wrist and the barrel of his gun at his crotch. Jason can smell the alpha stink on him and it riles his blood, makes him snarl all the fiercer. "Where is she?!"

"I would not tell you even if I knew, American." The assassin spits back up at him, like Jason's supposed to take his nationality as some kind of insult. He's a brute, shorter than Jason but broad, his shaved head makes him look kind of like a mini-Bane. Jason doesn't bother asking for a name, it's not like it'll matter in a few minutes time.

"Not a good attitude to take with the guy who's got a gun pointed at your dick, knothead." Jason says sweetly, mockingly. He has experience at getting under the skin of alphas like this one, they all tended to share one particular weak spot. "You got about five seconds to tell me something useful before I put one in your nutsack. One."

The man scoffs, though there's a telltale bead of sweat dripping down his temple that has nothing to do with exertion. "Do you think I honestly believe -"

"Two."

"- that you would actually dare to -"

"Three."

"- I have already told you I do not know!"

"Four." Jason says, pulling the trigger.

The scream is a thing of beauty, and the assassin's natural reaction to try and curl up around his injury just ends up pulling the wounds on his wrists against the blades in them all over again. He's doing half of Jason's work for him.

"Wow," Jason says, tilting his head and tapping the silenced barrel of his gun against his thigh. "That looked like it really hurt."

For a moment the world burns green, as he remembers those words from another mouth, another voice, and the meaty swing of the crowbar that had accompanied them. Jason forces back the wave of revulsion he feels, refusing to let himself get distracted from his cause. This isn't like _that_.

"You crazy bitch!" The commander yells, sobs. There's a lot of blood covering the wooden floor.

Jason lets his expression turn stony, smile dropping from his face. "Wrong answer." He moves the gun to aim at a shoulder and sees the eyes of his victim widen in terror. "Come on, you're smarter than this. If you don't give me something useful you know I'm just going to have to keep shooting you. Where is Talia al Ghul?!"

"I don't... I don't know... I... I am not privileged enough to know her exact movements."

"Then give me something I can use to find out!" Jason may not be an alpha, but he can pull off a pretty decent growl. It's enough. "The name and location of someone who _would_ know."

He gets a name, he gets a location, and when Jason stands back up he feels momentarily pacified as he aims the pistol at the commander's forehead.

"Wait!" The man babble's, "Wait you said you'd spare me!"

"Funny thing that," Jason lets himself smile, more for appearance than any real enjoyment, "I actually didn't."

One more pull of the trigger and he's left in blessed silence. After that Jason only spares a few more minutes to download the contents of the computer onto a USB drive in case there's anything useful to him on it before hurrying to make his exit.

He only has a limited amount of time before the explosives he planted on his way in go off, after all.

 

*

 

Two bases later and he's in Beirut when he gets a call. That in itself is pretty suspect, as Jason only ever uses this particular phone to call out.

Jason takes the time to move to the corner of the square that isn't immediately open to sniper fire, puts his back to a wall and starts to scan the crowd as he answers. "Yello."

"Jason." Talia says down the phone, her voice flat and disapproving.

He instantly drops the flippant act to snarl back into the receiver, " _Talia_." Jason should be worried that she was able to call him like this, that even now she's probably watching him through some camera at a safe distance. Talia had been afraid of him when he'd first come out of the Pit and Jason was making sure to prove it now that she'd had good reason to be. "Where's my son?!"

"Safe." She answers him promptly. "Jason, you must stop this crusade."

"Fuck you!" Jason snaps. "Fuck you! You took him from me!"

"You didn't give me any choice."

He let's out a sudden sharp bark of disbelieving laughter and tucks himself further back into his alcove. People stare at Jason as they walk past, before quickly averting their eyes from the crazy American teenager in the worn leather jacket. "You're full of shit."

"Damian has a destiny, he is meant for great things."

"He's a child! He deserves a normal goddamn life!"

Fuck her, fuck her fucking sideways with whatever painful object was to hand. Jason tries to breath in and keep his volume down, which is hard when everything in him wants to scream his pain at her. "I thought you were better than this Talia, when Ra's was alive you -"

"When my father was alive things were different." Talia cuts him off imperiously, "But now the League is mine and I will make it something better than it was before, something worthy of our son."

"I fucking trusted you!" He hisses down the phone. "I trusted you and you betrayed me, just like the rest of them!"

He must have made a point, because when Talia speaks again it's softer, more gentle, cajoling even. "It doesn't have to be this way, Jason. If you could just see the good we could do together, the world we could make for Damian to inherit. Stop this foolishness, stand by my side and you can have everything you ever wanted."

"All I want," Jason replies after a long moment of reflection, stomach uncomfortably twisting inside him at how easy it would be to accept her offer, "Is Damian back. You had no right to take him from me, no fucking right." He could try lying, could try faking it until he gets close enough to Damian to escape with him but Jason knows it won't work, he'd given Talia months to learn how to spot when he was lying. It was just a shame he hadn't learned the same skill at picking up her own tells.

"I have every right." The disappointment that drips from Talia's every word makes him grit his teeth. That bullheaded alpha attitude is everything he hates. "This is a last warning, Jason. Stop, or you will force me to take extreme measures to stop you. You cannot take down the entire League alone."

"Yeah? Fucking _watch me_."

Jason hangs up the phone, rips open the back to take out the battery and SIM card, then drops the lot onto the ground before crushing them under his boot heel until he's sure there's nothing traceable left. He scoops the whole mess up and drops it into the nearest trash can afterwards, before heading back to his hotel. 

Maybe she was right, maybe he can't take down the entire League alone, but that doesn't mean he won't give it his best shot. Call him petty, but at the very least Jason will make sure Talia suffers before he goes down.

 

*

 

By the time he hits base number five, a cosy little coastal cave network along the Turkish shore, Jason's in bad shape. 

The truth is he's been running full tilt even before Talia kidnapped his son, what with trying to take over Gotham's underbelly and play Bruce, Black Mask and the Joker against each other all at the same time. Jason was exhausted even before he began his second crusade and the more he fights the more drained he becomes, yet he can't let himself slow down even for an instant. 

Every second he doesn't use trying to get Damian back feels like a second wasted.

It's a punishing pace for anyone to keep up, and Jason dimly remembers how Alfred would scold Bruce when he got like this over a particular case, usually with Jason watching with awe from the sidelines at the beta's resolve. Back then he had always been on Alfred's side, but now he thinks he can start to understand his former mentor's need a little better. Jason can't say it's an empathy he ever particularly wanted.

He can't even remember the last time he really slept, and only barely the last time he sat down and ate something that wasn't microwaved or straight out of a wrapper. Sleep became impossible the moment his nightmares intensified, laying over the usual images of the Joker beating him with the crowbar or digging his way out of his grave with fresh horrors that all revolved around Damian.

Damian dead, Damian hurt, or - in the very worst one's - Jason finds his son again, days, months, even _years_ into the future, only to discover that Damian has forgotten him. Or resents him, curses him for being a failed and absent mother. For Jason it's the very worst kind of torment, the idea that he'd fail his own kid the same way all his own parents had failed him, blood or otherwise. 

So yeah, he's tired, and hurt from various cuts and bruises to boot, because no matter how good Jason is even he can't come out of fighting trained ninja's time and time again without getting banged up, and maybe he's starting to get a little sick from sleep deprivation and a poor diet to boot. It's a recipe for disaster, he knows, but what else can he do but keep on going? Keep on _fighting_ in the only way he knows how because the alternative is unthinkable.

Of course it's here and now that Jason runs into what Talia referred to as an 'extreme measure'. 

Fucking _Deathstroke_.

Jason doesn't know if he should feel more honoured that Talia had decided to outsource the manner of his death in the first place after he'd killed enough League assassins, or that she'd felt he warranted a high enough level of threat to hire someone of Slade Wilson's reputation for the job. More worryingly he wonders if he actually has a shot at coming out of this alive, because that reputation hadn't been earned for nothing. Deathstroke was _the_ mercenary, the one you went to when failure was in no way, shape or form an option.

He tries to reason to himself that all that didn't mean that Slade Wilson was always one-hundred percent successful. Batman had beaten him before, so had Nightwing and the Titans, which is something Jason will hold that to heart while he tries to stay alive.

Anything Dick can do, he can do better.

(Yeah, he really believes that)

"Slumming it, Wilson?" Jason says, rolling his aching shoulders as he looks at the imperiously blank orange and black mask. With Jason wearing his own helmet today it's almost like looking into a mirror. "Nothing better to do?"

"The hefty price on your head more than makes up for the lack of challenge you present." Slade answers slickly, hefting one of his swords as he does. "Holster your guns and make it easy on yourself, boy."

"Oh wow, golly gee whiz, mister, let me think about that for a moment..." Jason taps the barrel of his pistol against where his mouth is under the helmet, "Put up a fight or let you kill me outright, choices, choices. I gotta ask, does that ever work?" 

Deathstroke snorts derisively as he stalks forwards, all business and no pleasure, "Who said anything about killing?"

Jason barely has a moment to register what he just said, let alone the time to question it before they're fighting.

He ducks the first swing of a sword and backpedals quickly, trying to keep distance between himself and Slade as he fires off bullet after bullet in quick succession. Turns out he might as well just toss the damn guns themselves as Deathstroke for all the good it does. Jason's heard things, rumours, about that armour the mercenary wears. He's not sure if all of them are true (seriously, Nth metal?), but being bulletproof does seem to be one of its features. Slade's certainly isn't showing any fear of his guns as he charges him.

Quickly Jason tries to go over everything he knows about Deathstroke, which isn't easy when he's trying to stay alive at the same time. There's the armour, the decades of advanced lethal combat skill training and experience, and, oh yeah, the fact he's a genetically modified _metahuman_ to compete with. Christ, he really has managed to piss Talia off, hasn't he? Jason actually feels kind of proud alongside being royally pissed off.

It doesn't matter he decides, Jason's fought metas before and come out on top, and he's got a hell of a better reason to win this fight than Wilson does. He just needs to figure out how to do it.

Jason dodges and shoots, trying to aim more precisely for any perceived weak points in the armour. There has to be some gap, some chink that he could slip a bullet or his kris through, the trick is to stay alive long enough to find it.

The room they're fighting in is more of a cavern than anything. A wider worn opening in the cave's walls compared to the other narrower corridors he'd fought his way down earlier, possibly carved out by the League of Assassin's own craftsmen. The footing is rough, and the bodies of the assassin's that had been here when Jason first arrived lend a whole other obstacle to keeping upright in the face of Deathstroke's onslaught, but at least it means that when the clip in his gun empties and he has no time to reload it there's plenty more weapons at hand to choose from.

He leaps out of the range of a downward stroke, rolls forwards and holsters his gun, before snatching up a katana from the ground all in one smooth motion. It's a near thing, but Jason manages to do it and turn round just in time to block a slash that would have severed his arm at the elbow if he'd be one second slower. He's still forced to use the gun remaining in his left hand to deflect the stabbing motion of Slade's second sword, which was meant to skewer him through the ribs. 

For a moment the two of them strain and push against each other, Jason's feet slowly sliding back inch by inch over the roughly eroded stone.

"What the fuck did you mean by that?!" He growls into Slade's face, his voice modulator distorting his voice. "You're not here to kill me?"

"Not my choice, boy." Slade breaks the brief stalemate and slams his elbow into the side of Jason's helmet, sending him reeling. It doesn't hurt thanks to his helmet, but does leave him momentarily disorientated. "Just the terms of the contract."

Deathstroke rolls his shoulders easily, like he hasn't even broken a sweat yet underneath all that armour. "Personally I'd rather put all you Bat brats in the ground where you belong. Or back in the ground in your case."

The terms of the contract? The implications of that startle Jason once he's righted himself. "So what? You're just going to kick my ass? Put me in detention and hope I learn my lesson?" Talia has to know that wouldn't work; anyone who'd met Jason for more than five _minutes_ would know that wouldn't work.

"Hardly."

Before Jason can react Slade snakes past his guard while he's distracted, both of his blades knocking Jason's own weaponry away from him before his foot plants itself solidly in his chest. The blow hurts badly enough that Jason thinks his ribs may have cracked all over again, and ends with him flat on his back against the ground. All in less than three seconds.

It's humbling to say the least, humiliating really. As is the sudden flare of pain when Deathstroke drives the point of one sword through Jason's right shoulder. He avoids screaming, but only by biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, before yelling out a hearty, "FUCK!"

"My benefactor," Slade begins calmly, as if Jason's expletive wasn't still echoing around the walls of the chamber, "Seems to feel some kind of undue attachment to your life. Her mandate demands I let you live, but only after I permanently stop your childish rampage. As for how I'll do that..."

His boot comes down on Jason's wrist as he tries to pull his kris free, putting enough pressure on the bone to fracture it. And this time Jason really does scream. "Well, that's up to me. So, tell me boy, which do you value more. An arm, or a leg?"

Jason would spit up at him if he wasn't wearing his helmet. "Fuck you!" he hisses, fighting not to shake from the agony he's feeling from wrist and shoulder. "You can't stop me!"

"A leg I think." Slade spins the blade not pinning Jason to the ground easily in his hand. "That will be more effective. I'll even be nice enough to tie a tourniquet and drive you to the hospital after."

A leg? Deathstroke's going to cut off one of his legs? Jason - Jason starts to laugh. He can't help it, the sound bubbles out of him, angry and hysterical because _Jesus Christ_ , what even the hell is his life? He'll never in all his existence be able to fathom what it was he'd done to make the universe hate him this much. It might have been so much as simply daring to be _born_.

Oh God he's going to lose a leg. What the fuck good is he going to be to his son then? It will take months to recover from that sort of critical injury, and even after he has the strength to stand Jason won't be able to move at any great pace without the aid of the kind of super-advanced prosthetic he probably won't be able to afford. His only hope then to ever see Damian again will be to call up Talia and give _in_ to her demands, maybe see if he can get close enough to drive a dinner knife into her throat without all the other assassins in whatever hideout she's using killing him immediately after.

This is what Talia considers mercy? Give him a fucking break!

"If you're gonna do it," Jason starts, feeling blood run both down his chin under his helmet from his bitten lip, and out of his shoulder onto the floor beneath him, "Go ahead and get it done with, the only fucking thing worse than losing a limb is having to listen to you yammering on."

 _You get angry too easily_ , Egon had said, _Then you become an idiot._ Give the dead man a prize, he was right after all.

Slade twists the blade in his shoulder enough to set Jason screaming again, before stepping back off his broken wrist. "As you wish. Now hold still, this won't take a second. And it will _hurt_."

He raises the sword in his right hand, blade aimed just above the knee of Jason's right leg, and Jason gropes clumsily for one of the small localised explosives in his jacket pocket, determined to try at least one suicidally stupid move in an attempt to save his favoured limb. However, before he can even grasp it in shaking fingers, someone else beats him to the punch.

There's a sound, a _twang_ that echoes through the air, and Slade's throwing himself back out of the path of a red projectile. No, not just any projectile, an _arrow_.

Before Jason can begin to fully comprehend what that means, the arrow is followed by a figure wearing blue and black, wielding twin sticks that crackle with electricity. _Jesus fuck_ , Jason realises dimly, it's Nightwing. Nightwing and -

He twists his head, teeth gritted, to watch the deadly dance currently going off between Nightwing and his old foe. There's no time to question why Dick's here or how he knew to find Jason (for all he knows it's just an unfortunate coincidence), he has to get out of here while he still can. Jason can't be around when whoever the victor of the fight is turns their attention back to him.

And no, he doesn't feel bad about leaving Dick to fight Deathstroke alone, not at all. Jason's sure he can handle it.

Of course, _seeing_ his older brother momentarily distracts him from the fact that Dick didn't actually come alone. It's not until he's trying to push himself up on his left elbow (because his right arm's currently a lost cause) that he's reminded of it, as Roy freaking Harper comes into his field of view, another arrow already set and cocked to his bowstring.

Apparently he dropped that dorky yellow hat for an even stupider looking trucker cap.

"Easy kid!" Harper exclaims, and he's going by Arsenal these days, isn't he? At least according to the minimal research Jason had done on what became of the Titan's after he died. "Just stay down, we've got this!" 

"Shouldn't," Jason manages to sit up, feeling horribly woozy from blood loss. He feels cold too, even as sweat drips down his face and stings his eyes, which is not a good thing since it's one of the symptoms of shock. "Shouldn't you be helping him?"

Harper takes a second to cast a glance down at him and it's unfair how much seemingly real concern Jason can read in the other omega's face beneath his red domino mask. He's glad his own face is covered by his helmet. "I am, just waiting for the right moment."

Oh, he thinks, looking back at the fight and trying not to feel envious at how incredibly graceful Dick looks in his natural element, even when he's clearly giving ground to Deathstroke's more aggressive fighting style. Nightwing's losing, but as ever he's putting on a good show while he does. Jason thinks he and Deathstroke are exchanging banter while they fight as well, though he'll be damned if he can make out any of the words they're saying. 

It's a distraction Jason realises blearily, Dick's leading Deathstroke where he wants him to go, and using inane chatter to stop Slade from realising it. That's certainly no ordinary arrow that Harper's got knocked to his bow.

Huh, this should be interesting. Though he really should be escaping right now instead of sticking around as a member of the audience.

Jason tries to lurch up to his feet, only to fall immediately back down onto his ass. Right, he's crawling then.

"You," Harper observes noncommittally, keeping his eagle-eyed vision trained on the two combatants as Jason awkwardly pushes himself along the floor, trailing blood, "Are one stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?"

"Tell me something I don't know." Jason mutters under his breath. Suddenly there's a shout, and he hears the loosing of Arsenal's arrow two seconds before a resounding explosion cracks through the room. When he looks back round, squinting through the mess of dust and smoke (thankful for his helmets filtration systems), Jason see's the corridor leading out of the chamber is now blocked off with broken rubble. Dick's crouching in front of it with Deathstroke nowhere in sight, meaning he must have been on the other side when the shot went off. Jason hopes it killed him, but probably not knowing his two 'rescuers'.

He needs to get out of here, he needs to get out of here right fucking now. Jason winces as he watches Dick stand, then hears him call out his name as he begins to jog back towards Jason and Harper. Seeing that urges Jason to make one final attempt to stand, and he almost manages it before the blood loss makes his head spin and he crashes back down to the floor instead. 

Jason's lunge to get at his kris this time is stopped by Harper, who is far more gentle about it that Deathstroke was. "Hey, hey easy, kid! We're not going to hurt you." He says worriedly, holding Jason's unbroken wrist in a careful, if firm, pin. "You need some serious medical attention right now."

"No!" He surprises himself and Harper with the volume of his shout. "I'm fine, just... just let me go..."

He has to go. Damian... he has to get to Damian.

"Come on." Harper shakes his head, kneeling down now and pulling a bandage from his belt. He goes to try and press it to Jason's bleeding shoulder, but Jason lashes out at him clumsily instead. "For fuck's sake... Dick, get your ass over here already!"

A moment later and there's another pair of gloved hands touching him, though blessedly no alpha scent accompanies it. Dick is as religious as ever with using his scent neutraliser while on the job. "Shh, little wing." His features blur as Jason squints up at him. "Let us help you, it's going to be all right."

 _No, no it isn't!_ Jason tries to say, but his throat feels clamped tight and his tongue won't cooperate. Why won't they listen to him? Why won't anyone ever goddamned listen?!

Jason feels roughened gloved fingertips touch his neck, a second before his shirt collar is pulled down and there's a sudden sharp prick to the side of his neck just under the bottom of his helmet. He wants to scream, wants to snarl, wants to rip Dick's throat out with his teeth as he sinks down into unconsciousness.

"Don't worry, Jason, we've got you. You're going to be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta be honest, action scenes are not my forte, so I hope this read well ;;
> 
> Most of my experience with Deathstroke comes from the Teen Titan's series, so his portrayal here is heavily influenced by that, as well as mixing in his mercenary background from the comics. 
> 
> I'm also sorry for kicking Jason around so much, but honestly getting someone as badass, smart and capable as he is into a position where he'd need and accept help from others pretty much requires it! Hopefully I didn't sell him short on that fact.
> 
> Heads up, I have chapter 3 mostly completed, and a good chunk of chapter 4 written too with a total of six estimated chapters in total as a whole. I'm aiming for a steady update rate of every two weeks for this, with other things posted in-between \o/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up warning for discussion of a dub-con sexual situation near the end of this chapter.

The steady beeping of a heart monitor is Jason's first clue to where he is.

Slowly he blinks open his eyes, squinting at the light above him and the sickly green of curtains around his medical bed. It's not... not a hospital, not a clinic. The ceiling is too dark and high, and he can hear the restless rustle of wings above him.

Bats.

The heart monitor spikes with sudden panic as Jason lunges to sit up, or tries to. He snarls as his arms are jerked back by the restraints tying him to the bed, prompting him to only try harder to break free despite the pain shooting up his left arm and through his right shoulder.

He's in the fucking Batcave.

It's like Jason's worst nightmare come true, being imprisoned in the heart of Bruce's operation. There's probably a dozen cameras trained on him right now, and he thinks back to what he remembers in his last moments of consciousness before he passed out: Nightwing and Arsenal. Jason's a good enough match for either of them alone, but together?

He curses Talia, his constant bad luck and decision making, and everything else in-between. The universe really fucking hates him.

The curtain to his right is pulled open, and Jason turns his head to deliver a vicious spiel, only to be brought up short at the sight of who walks through. He breathes in the scent of tea and lemon, and the smell goes right to the heart of the kid he used to be. Cowardly bastard, Jason thinks, he sent _Alfred_ first.

"Hello, Master Jason."

Just those three words alone are almost enough to undo him. All the stress, all the pain, the anxiety of being separated from his son as he tried to hunt Talia down, wells up inside him at the first whiff of the one family member he'd never wanted to hurt. The only one he'd never thought to lose faith in.

"Hey, Alfie." Jason manages to croak.

A cool, dry hand settles on his forehead as Alfred checks his temperature, and Jason tries, and fails, to completely resist the urge to press his head up into the touch like a needy child. He must surprise Alfred, because the butler's eyes widen a little, before his expression softens and his fingers slip back into Jason's hair. "Dear boy," he sighs, "What have you gotten yourself into?"

The urge to confess everything is one Jason barely holds back. Instead he shakes his head, ignoring the rising heat behind his eyes. "Let me go, Alf, please, let me go."

"You know I can't do that. After everything -"

"I have to get out of here!" Jason's voice rises, his arms jerking up against the restraints again, hard enough to hurt, especially against his broken wrist even though it's been put into a cast. They're padded, but that doesn't make a lick of difference with the force Jason's using. "You don't understand!"

"Then help me understand." Alfred implores, withdrawing his hand quickly. He's visibly disturbed by Jason's thrashing. "Master Jason, please stop, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"I don't care! I have to get out of here. Please trust me, Alfred."

And it hurts, hurts so much when Alfred shakes his head in refusal. "I'm afraid I cannot. If you would only tell me what it is that's wrong, we could help you." Jason would love to believe that, he really would, but he can't bear the thought of facing Bruce's continued disappointment, or his reaction should he find out about Damian.

" _Sure_ , because the big man wants to do anything other than lock me away right now."

"Master Jason, that is completely -"

"Where is he?" Jason demands, choosing to feed the anger he woke up with rather than face Alfred's reason. He twists his head around, trying to look past the butler's shoulder as he wrenches his arms against the cuffs. "Bruce! I know you're in here! Come and face me yourself!" He hates to do this in front of the only man close to a grandparent he's ever known, but Bruce isn't leaving him much choice. "Dick, you fucker!"

"If you don't calm yourself, I shall be forced to administer a sedative." He can see Alfred moving to the table, pulling open a drawer to take out a needle. It's counterproductive, but his struggling only increases.

"Bruce!"

"It's alright, Alfred." That deep voice cuts through the air like a knife, stopping Jason in his struggles, while inwardly his heart beats that much faster. "That won't be necessary."

Bruce pushes his way through the curtain a moment later, huge and imposing. He's dressed in the batsuit, but minus the cowl, and that's not all, Jason realises, he hasn't entirely covered his scent yet, which means it must be early in the evening and he has yet to go out into the city. The familiar threads of _Father_ and _Safety_ feed into his senses before Jason can steel himself against them.

No, he's not going to let that get to him. It won't be that easy.

"Sir?" Alfred looks relieved, even as his eyes flick between them. The needle is still poised in his hand, but he hands it over to Bruce when their - _his_ \- alpha holds his hand out to take it.

"We're just going to talk." Bruce says reassuringly, and Alfred reluctantly nods, pausing only to put his hand on Jason's uninjured shoulder and gently squeeze before he exits the closed off med bay for the rest of the cave. Somehow Jason manages not to call after him.

He's alone now, with Bruce, and it's both what he wants and what he dreads.

"B." He says flatly, fingers of his right hand staying curled into a tight fist. The pain is good, same as the anger, they help him focus.

Bruce sits himself down on the edge of the bed, next to Jason's legs, carefully not touching him. For a moment he says nothing, body rigid with tension, but then seems to brace himself to talk. "Jason -"

"You going to let me go?"

Bruce grimaces, "Not without good reason. Jason, you -"

"Is this where you give the talk about how killing scumbags is wrong? Because let me tell you, Bruce, you're not going to change my mind on that now anymore than you did six months ago." Jason says bitterly, "So you might as well save your breath."

"Why have you been going after the League of Assassins, Jason? Why was Deathstroke hired to come after you?"

He wasn't wasting any time in getting right down to it. "It's none of your business what I do, it hasn't been for a long time."

"Your well being is my business, and if Nightwing and Arsenal hadn't been there you'd be dead or crippled right now." Bruce says, all heavy disapproval. "We're not your enemies, Jason. I'm asking because I want to _help_ you, you're still my son. You can still - "

"Your son?!" Jason laughs, not so much because it's actually funny, but because he knows it will piss Bruce off. "Oh that's rich. Don't know many fathers who try to cut their sons _throats_ open." He turns his head as he says it, making sure Bruce gets a nice view of the scar on the side of his neck, the one he left there.

The older man doesn't flinch, but Jason's good enough at reading the minor tells in Bruce's poker face to know he's gotten to him. "You didn't give me any choice." 

"I gave you choices! Two of them!" Jason spits at once, seeing green. 

"Both unacceptable ones!" Bruce's voice rises in turn, the first rumble of thunder that heralds a coming storm. Jason can see him visibly struggling to hold himself back, "I did the only thing I could to stop you from making a mistake."

"A mistake?! You almost killed me!"

"I didn't!" Jason grits his teeth, braces himself against the rise of testosterone in the air as Bruce leans over him. _Submit_ , instinct urges him, submit to cool the rage of the pack leader, but Jason forces it back. This isn't his home or his pack anymore, and he's not a slave to his biology either. "You honestly think I would risk your life?"

"You're a God damned liar, Bruce, that's what I think you are. Someone who cares more about saving the Joker than his so-called child, or all the other innocent people he's murdered! If you gave a damn that freak would be six feet under by now!"

"I told you why that can't happen." And oh, he's not prepared for the way Bruce's face contorts in pain. "I can't. You know I can't."

"Fuck you. Fuck you and your hypocritical bullshit," Jason tells him, turning his gaze away so that he doesn't have to see. "If you're not going to let me out of here, then leave me the fuck alone."

A hand moves to touch his hair and Jason lunges before it can connect, snapping his teeth closed on thin air as Bruce jerks back just in time. "I said," he says, snarling again, taking care to emphasise every word. "Leave. Me. The fuck. Alone!"

Bruce looks down at him for a good minute, all clenched jaw and brooding weight, before he finally stands up to leave. "I have to go on patrol, we'll talk more later."

"Go suck a dick." Jason glares at him until he's gone, before sagging back against the mattress in sudden exhaustion. About ten minutes later, if his count is right, he hears the Batmobile's engine roar to life, then exit the cave.

 

*

 

The next time Jason awakens it's not to the sight of Alfred, or Bruce, or even Dick at his bedside.

It's Roy Harper.

Roy must sense his confused gaze, because he pauses the game he's playing on a wafer thin tablet computer to shoot Jason a too-cheerful smile from under the ridiculous baseball cap he's wearing, "Morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Fuck off."

"Ouch. That's no way to talk to your rescuer." Roy puts the tablet to the side, then grabs a cup of water with a straw in it. "Here, I bet you're thirsty."

Jason glares half-heartedly at him, the painkillers he was on before have worn off and he feels sore all over. He'd ask for more, except he wants his wits fully about him to try and facilitate an escape. "What are you, my babysitter?"

"Something like that." The archer grins at him unabashedly, continuing to wave the straw in Jason's face like he's a stubborn child. "And well, they thought you might um... have a more positive reaction to me being here when you woke up than one of them."

"Why?" Jason snorts, "Because you're another omega?" Some bullshit psychologists believed one omega's presence could be calming to another, particularly when an alpha's would only make them feel threatened.

"Because I'm not involved in this whole messed up family argument you guys have got going on. Well, that and the butler had other stuff to do." Roy corrects him, wrinkling his nose. "They want you to be comfortable, Jaybird. It's not about manipulation."

 _Jaybird?_ "You've met Bruce, right? Everything with him is about manipulation." And Roy is Dick's friend, so it isn't like he won't be biased to one side. 

Jason swallows, then coughs a little. His throat is pretty dry, so he decides to give into Roy's demand to drink. There's probably nothing in the water if Harper's behind it.

"That's a fucked up viewpoint you got there." Roy frowns. "They're worrying themselves sick over whatever it is that's going on with you." He pulls the cup away when Jason's done with it, sets it on the side, then props his chin on his hands, staring at Jason like he's some particularly fascinating piece of unknown technology. "Seriously, dude."

Jason sneers, going for intimidating, which is a feat when he's in thin white cotton pyjama's and tethered to a bed. "They need to keep their noses out of my business. And so should you." He flexes his right wrist against the cuff, grimacing to find that the chain remains as sturdy as before. Even if he wasn't being watched he doesn't think he could get out of these, not with all his clothes and tools gone, let alone the broken bone and hole in his shoulder.

"You know, this grumpy tough guy act is not as cute as it was when you were short and wearing green panties."

"Has anyone ever told you your bedside manner sucks?" 

Roy grins again. "I have excellent approval ratings, I'll have you know."

"From who? Dick?" Jason scoffs at the idea, unsure why he's even still bothering to talk to this idiot. Maybe because he literally has nothing else to do, and he might be able to get something useful out of this conversation if he plays it right. "His taste level is atrocious."

"Give him a break, he grew out of Discowing years ago." Roy laughs at Jason's jibe, and Jason surprises himself by having to bite down on a smile at the reference too. He hasn't thought about Dick and the ridiculous collar of his first Nightwing suit in a long, long time. "But seriously, dealing with a sick kid teaches you a lot about being patient with a difficult... er, patient."

Jason's attention catches, and he ignores the comment that he's being difficult (which he is, admittedly) to ask, "You've got a kid?"

"Don't look so shocked, will you." Roy scratches at his chin, "I got a little girl, she's two years old."

Damian will be two in a few months. Jason swallows hard, trying to hide his reaction behind another question, "Is she..."

"Dick's?" Roy laughs at the implication, like Jason's just told him a particularly good joke, like Jason doesn't know that Dick was fucking him alongside Koriand'r back when he was a kid. He hadn't magically turned deaf, dumb and blind during his one solitary visit to the Titan's tower. "No. No, me and Dick, we're good friends but no. He's just Lian's favourite uncle."

"Oh." Jason's gut twists, and he suddenly can't think of anything else to say as he stares upwards at the darkness of the cave's roof. 

In a better world Dick could have been Damian's uncle too. 

Jason misses his son with a pain so acute that it literally feels like he's being eaten from the inside out. All his guilt rises back up and swamps over him in an instant, making it hard for him to breathe. He just keeps fucking up, over and over, everything he tries to do goes wrong, and Jason hates himself for letting those defeatist thoughts enter his head. It's just... he's so _tired_ , exhausted and at the end of his rope. He was almost crippled by Deathstroke, for God's sake, which was both a win at showing how much he was getting to Talia, and a loss because it would have fucked up his chances at finding Damian once and for all.

"Jaybird?" Roy's voices goes quiet. "Hey, you okay?"

"Don't call me that." His voice is rough for an entirely different reason than thirst, and Jason point blank refuses to let his weakness show. Not in front of one of Dick's dumbass friends, who's only here because Dick probably asked him to be. Why else should Roy Harper give a fuck about the little punk kid he only met a handful of times before he got himself blown up?

"Look, kid, I -" Roy holds his hands up at Jason's sudden glare. "Sorry, Jason. Look, here's the honest truth, I can't make you talk to me, or to anyone else, no one can. But I gotta ask you, what good is it doing you to stay quiet? Something's clearly up, you reek of stress and fear, and you know you're not getting out of here any other way than coming clean, right? Not after what you did the last time you were in Gotham."

Jason opens his mouth to retort, but Roy isn't quite finished.

"Just..." Roy scratches at the inside of his arm, over the fabric of his shirt. "I know how hard it can be to ask for help sometimes, especially from someone who's hurt you in the past."

"You done?"

The redhead's face closes off for a second, before he shrugs, apparently all casual ease once more. "Yeah, I'm done. Ball's in your court, Jaybird."

Gritting his teeth, Jason stubbornly turns his face away to look at the green curtain on the other side of his bed. There's a lot he could say back to Roy, a lot of hurt angry words about his so-called 'family' but Jason bites them back, holds them in and digs his nails hard enough into his palm to make it bleed instead. He doesn't care what Harper thinks, or what he has to say.

Even if he is right.

 

*

 

Roy's words eat at Jason more than anyone else's over the next twelve hours.

In that time he has another ferocious blow-up with Bruce, a short nasty argument with Dick, and finally winds up with Alfred at his side again, as the only person (other than grudgingly, Harper) Jason can stand the company of. Or who can put up with him. It's nothing to do with his father and older brother both being alphas either; it's because he's lost faith in them after coming back to life, and the green that still whispers in the back of his mind won't let his guard down around either of them, especially not Bruce.

Twelve hours, when not filled with bitter words and spitting insults, is a long time to think.

Jason asks himself, over and over, if his silence is worth leaving his son in Talia's hands even one moment longer; if his fear of what Bruce will do with the knowledge of Damian's existence is a worse fate than leaving the boy with his sire. In the pit of his stomach he knows that Bruce, Dick, and the rest of them would help him a heartbeat if he told them the truth. They're heroes after all, it's what they _do_. No, it's what the _aftermath_ of that help will be that scares him. It's what made him work alone in the first place.

Jason's done bad things by anyone's standards, let alone Batman's. He's broken the rules, killed and tortured, maimed with an intent to cause irreparable harm with zero regrets. That means, if Bruce sticks to his guns the way he always does, that the only fate waiting for Jason after this is a life spent behind metal bars, either in Blackgate (or Arkham, if his adoptive father thinks he's crazy enough. There's a high chance in Jason's mind that he does).

Neither of those places is child friendly, which is what's tormenting Jason right now. The fact is that asking for help to get Damian away from Talia's clutches and the League of Assassin's may very well mean setting himself up to lose him all over again, and it _terrifies_ him.

Yes, Bruce (or more accurately, Alfred) would take care of Damian, would give him a safe home, food and comfort, and maybe even bring him to visit Jason in whatever hole he's left to rot in, but damn it, he's _Jason's._ His child, his son, and Jason wants to be there for him when he grows up, unlike his own mother and father. He wants Damian to have the kind of life Jason never got to have, a normal one.

(Maybe Jason's been kidding himself about that possibility ever since he learned he was pregnant, and certainly since he agreed to stay with Talia. People never just get to quit the vigilante business, and fighting the good fight is wired into his bones.)

God, how could he have been so pig-headedly stubborn, so foolish as to let the Pit and his own rage consume him to the point he'd let Damian be taken from him? It's a question he's tormented himself with over and over since he discovered what Talia had done, because the truth was that for all his determination to do a better job than his own parents, he'd still failed his son when he needed him most. He'd made every mistake he'd told himself he wouldn't.

Maybe, Jason thinks with a twist of his stomach, maybe he isn't cut out to be a parent after all. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be one with all the sins he's committed. Maybe it would be better if Damian was with someone other than him, someone less poisoned by what the world had done to them. It's a harsh epiphany, to realise that maybe you don't deserve your own child, but Jason isn't so willingly ignorant as to not understand that for Damian's own good he might have to cross that bridge when he came to it. 

Talia doesn't deserve him either.

"Alfred?"

Alfred pauses in his reading, his voice has been the gentle background to Jason's inner crisis for the past hour. Jason can't even remember what novel it was that he was reading to him. "Yes, Master Jason?"

"I..." He swallows thickly. "I have something to tell you."

Alfred carefully closes the book and sets it to one side, before leaning in towards Jason with an encouraging nod. "I'm listening."

Slowly, in fits and starts, Jason tells him everything.

 

*

 

By the time he's done, voice hoarse and broken, Alfred is holding his right hand tightly. There's moisture shining in the old man's eyes, as well as a tense line to his shoulders that suggests repressed anger. Jason's not entirely sure, sometimes Alfred is harder to read than Batman with his stiff upper lip.

"Do you have any idea where she might have run to with the boy?" He asks Jason finally, and Jason closes his eyes at the tremor in Alfred's voice.

He shakes his head, "No, but I think I may have been getting close. The fact she hired Deathstroke to stop me means something, right?"

"Indubitably."

Alfred looks to brace himself, "You know I must inform Master Bruce about this."

"Wouldn't have told you if I wasn't prepared for that, Alfie."

"No, I suspect you wouldn't have." Jason isn't prepared for how Alfred stands up, pressing the palm of his free hand against his cheek. "We'll get him back, young sir. I promise."

Jason nods, swallowing thickly, because he has no adequate words to respond to that sincerity with.

Alfred continues on, unperturbed by his silence, "Now, you had better try and rest. I fear the next few hours will be taxing."

"Understatement of the year, Alfred. Understatement of the year." Jason mumbles to himself as the butler pulls away and exits the curtained enclosure, however he knows there's no way in hell he'll be sleeping again until he hears whatever Bruce's response is.

He doesn't have to wait long. It takes less than an hour before the sound of shouting echoes its way across the cave to where Jason's resting. He can Bruce's deep tones raised in anger and Dick's more nasal voice filled with incredulity, but other than the emotions behind the words there's not much else he can pick out, which is just _super_. He'd like at least some inkling on what he should be bracing himself for.

What Jason doesn't expect for the sudden roar of the Batmobile's engine, which would only be happening if... if Bruce was going _out_ instead of coming to yell at Jason. That he can't believe, yet surely enough the car screeches out of the cave, and the one who steps inside the curtain is Dick, not Bruce.

He must be gaping in shock, because Dick smiles thinly, lifting one shoulder in a stiff shrug. "Bruce um, he needed to go punch some guys."

Jason glares at that, anger immediately bubbling up inside him, "Fucking coward, he can't even -"

"I told him to." Dick cuts Jason off sharply, "If he'd came in here as angry as he is you two would just end up arguing again. That's not what you need, that's not what any of us need right now."

Now Jason feels a little stunned. "Seriously? You told Bruce to take a hike and he did?"

"Believe it or not Jason, he doesn't actually like fighting with you." His older brother says quietly, taking a seat in the chair Alfred had occupied before. Dick's dark blue eyes look troubled, adding years to his face. "Little wing..."

"Don't call me that."

"Jason," Dick immediately amends, because he's not one hundred percent an asshole, unlike some people. "I... I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_?"

"Yeah, I am. For what happened to you, for not... not being there when you needed me, Jason." He'd tried to say this the previous day, before Jason chased him out with furious words and an intentionally deaf ear. "The things that happened to you -"

"Are my own damn fault. My choices." Jason interrupts bitterly, wondering what Dick is hoping to get out of this. Forgiveness? Maybe, his dear big brother was always good at taking responsibility that wasn't his to claim. "Don't pretend otherwise. And don't act like I didn't know what I was doing either, because fuck you, Dick, I knew _exactly_ what I was doing every time."

He watches Dick pull at his lip with his teeth, a habit he remembers him having from the first time he and Dick ever really spoke to each other outside of costumes. He never did it when he was Nightwing, as if the persona enabled him to shed all of Dick Grayson's insecurities. Jason thinks he remembers what that was like, back when he'd been Robin and all the world felt like it laid at his feet the moment he put on the red, green and yellow. Like he was immortal.

The world sure had hurried to knock that misconception out of him.

"We'll get your kid back." Dick says finally, evidently having decided to put questions about Jason's ethics aside for a later date. He sounds hoarse, stumbling, and far less like the confident older teenager Jason remembered and once had the worst of crushes on. More than that he sounds angry underneath his resolve, Jason can read the telltale glint of it in his eyes. "I promise, Jason."

"His name's Damian." Dick blinks, so Jason says it again, more forcibly this time. "My kid, his name is Damian."

"Damian." His brother repeats, nodding. "Okay, we'll get Damian back, Jason. We won't let Talia get away with whatever she's planning."

That's all Jason wants to hear out of him, out of any of them, so he nods in acceptance. "So now what?"

"Now?" Dick looks wrong footed again, scrambling to keep up. Jason wonders if he expected him to cry, or to babble out a thank you like some damsel Nightwing has just saved from a twenty-storey fall. 

"Yeah Dickface, _now_. You said you're going to help me get Damian back, so what's the plan?" He jangles his arms against the cuffs holding him to the bed pointedly. "I know I'm not good people anymore, but if you and Bruce think you're going to do this without me you've got another thing coming."

Ignoring the insult, Dick shakes his head. "That's not what I think at all, Jay. But you're in no condition to be fighting right now, you need to rest. I promise as soon as we find out where Talia's hiding we'll -"

"You are not leaving me locked up in this Goddamned cave!"

Dick looks at him for a long moment and there it is, the distrust. Totally justified of course. Jason doesn't actually blame him for that given everything, even though he still bristles at its presence. Any other time he'd be sure to prove their suspicions in order to get the hell out of here, but when they're the best chance he has at finding Damian again? Jason's not going to run away from that.

"I wasn't saying that," Dick eventually continues, after a long and uncomfortable pause. "But you need to heal up before anything else. Deathstroke still might try to fulfil his contract, and who knows if Talia hired any other mercenaries beside him. You'll be safest here in the manor until you're strong enough to fight again."

Jason continues to glare, but Dick doesn't so much as flinch in the face of it, apparently having rediscovered his balls in wake of the revelation that Jason is not some wilting omega from a dime-store novel, waiting for some boorish alpha to tell him everything is going to be okay. It shouldn't even need to be said, except that even the best of them can apparently still fall prey to millennia old stereotypes. "Is that right?"

"Yeah," Dick says, alpha bleeding into his voice as he leans over, fingers hovering over the cuff on Jason's left hand. At such close range Jason has to concentrate to ignore the salted-caramel intensity of his uncovered scent, which carries far too many memories with it to be comfortable. "It is. Are you going to be okay with that?"

What he really meant was, are you going to behave if I let you out of here? Jason understood well enough. He also understood that there was really only one answer he could give to that.

"Sure. Sure, I'm good for it, Dickiebird." The nickname seems to jolt Dick, who purses his lips before finally pressing his finger to a spot right next to where the cuff locks. Biometric scanners, nifty; it falls open around Jason's cast, and he winces as he bends his arm and brings it in across his stomach while Dick repeats the action with his right arm. "You clear this with Bruce first?"

"No, but he can deal with it when he gets back."

"Well aren't you just the rebellious one now. Must be catching." Moving his right arm hurts a lot more than the left, as the nerves in his shoulder scream with every tiny motion. Sweat breaks out on his forehead, and Jason has to bite down on a cry of pain as he reflexively curls in on himself. All of a sudden he's too aware of Dick so close to him, his scent filling the space between them, and the concerned graze of his fingers over Jason's bicep. "Don't..." he tries to say in warning, "Don't touch me."

"Jason -"

"Are you deaf?" He snaps, "I'm fine. I don't need you hovering over me like a mother hen."

"You are not fine." Dick retorts, the edges of a growl forcibly suppressed under a mask of reason. He notably takes a moment to gentle his tone, "Just let me help you get upstairs, Jay. That's all I want to do, I swear."

Jason casts him a suspicious look for a moment, all the while inwardly mourning his broke and beaten limbs, as well as spitting curses at Slade Wilson's bloodline all the way the way back to the Neanderthals. Finally though, with a roll of his eyes, he gives in and nods. "Fine, but only out of this damn cave."

There's a practicality to the surrender, as well as the protection of his pride (already thoroughly trampled on), as Jason discovers upon standing. Dick magics shoes for him from somewhere and he manages to slip those on with no trouble, but once he stands up Jason suddenly remembers exactly how many hits he's taken in the past few weeks, let alone the last forty-eight hours. It turns out that having Dick's arm placed supportively around his waist may be the only thing keeping him from pitching over as they make their slow way across the cave floor.

"Where's Alfred?" He asks, to fill the silence before Dick can with anything else Jason doesn't want to talk about.

"Upstairs," Dick answers promptly, "Roy's helping him open up one of the guest rooms for you. We figured you, er, probably wouldn't be comfortable sleeping in your old bedroom."

So much for avoiding uncomfortable subjects. "Let me guess," Jason says bitterly, "It's exactly how I left it."

Dick's face is in a open book, and Jason scoffs, shaking his head. Of course. It seems to compel Dick to try and mount some kind of defence in Bruce's favour, "He loves you, losing you was - it was the worst thing that every happened to him."

"Shut up."

"If we'd had any idea you'd come back -"

"Shut up, Dick!" Jason snaps, words and teeth. Then he sees the case.

Whatever else he meant to say flies out of the window as he shoves himself away from his brother, moving forwards on unsteady legs by himself. He can feel Dick still hovering anxiously behind his shoulder, all restrained alpha protectiveness, as he comes face to face with his old Robin costume.

Not the one he died in, no, not the one he _burned_ in. This is a spare, one of the ones he'd left behind when he took off for Ethiopia, but it's still morbid, still -

Jason swallows thickly as he presses the fingers of his left hand against the glass, tracing the lines of the domino mask. There's a plaque sitting at the bottom, his name engraved together with the dates of his birth and death, and what is quite possibly the worst epitaph Jason can imagine for himself: _A Good Soldier_.

This is how Bruce chose to remember him? Not as a son, not as pack, but a _soldier_. "Fuck."

"I know. I hate it too." Dick says softly from behind him, reading too easily into what Jason's thinking.

He shakes his head in response, heaving in one deep breath after another while heavily debating breaking the glass and smashing the whole creepy shrine to the boy he used to be to pieces, except that it's probably made out of bulletproof glass or something equally ridiculous with Bruce behind it. "Fuck, fuck," he mutters, before pulling himself away, one slow step after another until he's practically back on top of Dick, "Get me out of here, just..."

Dick doesn't hesitate to slide his arm back around Jason's waist, who lets himself be half-carried up the stairs in what feels like a daze.

 

*

 

Bruce gets home at a quarter to four in the morning.

For a moment he thinks it's late enough that surely no one else will still be awake to meet him, but then he see's the active light at the Bat computer and knows he's not alone.

Slowly Bruce paces forwards to where Dick sits reading through the most up to date files that they have on the League of Assassins, pulling off the cowl from his head as he does so. His body aches unpleasantly for the rougher than normal paces that he'd put himself through tonight, and he'll pay worse than usual for it later, but the benefit from that is that the fire of his earlier anger is largely banked. All of his most aggressive instincts have been unleashed on the unsuspecting criminal element, and now Bruce can think somewhat clearly again.

"You took Jason upstairs." Bruce notes as he comes up next to Dick, frowning at the open image of Talia's face flash-frozen on the computer screen. An image he himself had taken, back during better days.

"Seemed best," Dick answers, looking sidelong at Bruce. Then, "He's not going to run."

Bruce frowns, "You're certain of that?"

"We're the best chance he has of getting Damian back," His eldest argues, "I know Jason, he won't turn away from that now that he's let us know what's up. That's not who he is."

"We don't know who he is anymore." Bruce forces himself to say, before holding up a hand to forestall whatever Dick is about to respond with so he can continue. "But in this case I think you're right. Jason needs us, and so long as that remains true he'll work alongside us."

"Glad we agree on something." Dick says, with a mixture of relief and unhappiness at Bruce's prior comment. He looks like he was preparing himself for a greater argument, like he thought Bruce was going to demand they put a tracker on Jason (and truthfully he's considered it). "You need to talk to him."

"I know."

"No, you don't." Dick slumps back in the chair, exhaustion crawling onto his face and down to inhabit every line of his body. "I mean really _talk_ to him, Bruce. Not yell, or make demands of him. Talk. You're the pack leader, you're still his alpha, and he needs you now. What Jason did in Gotham has to wait until after we've taken care of this."

Part of Bruce instinctively bristles back at Dick telling him what to do, even though he's just doing his part as the second alpha of the pack. Dick means well, is the point, and he was never as close to Jason as Bruce was back before he died, so his emotions are less muddled than Bruce's own when it comes to him. Bruce tells himself he can take the advice for what it is without his baser nature taking it as him being threatened in his position of leader.

So he pushes the feeling down, electing not to remind Dick that what Jason's done incorporates a whole lot more than two months of action in Gotham, and nods. "I will, Dick. Later, when he's awake."

"Okay, Bruce." Dick rubs his forehead and looks back up at the screen, "I asked Barbara to put out feelers for Talia. I didn't tell her everything yet, just that we need to find her; though she'll probably figure at least some of it out for herself soon enough."

That was true, since it was Barbara, Oracle, who had alerted them to Jason's actions against the League in the first place, as well as the later whisper of Deathstroke's contract to take down the Red Hood. Without her help Jason might not even be alive right now. "I'll let her know the whole story tomorrow. You should get to bed, Dick."

Dick snorts, fully aware of the irony of Bruce telling him that. "I will, B. Soon."

Bruce nods and leaves him to it. Heading for the showers first, Bruce strips off the rest of the suit and hisses at the sting of hot water against his various cuts and bruises, before throwing on the pair of comfortable sweats that he always wears post-patrol and walking upstairs.

Bruce means to go straight to bed, he honestly does, means to leave the confrontation with Jason for when they've all had some sleep, but as he climbs the stairs and walks down the hall a light shines out from underneath a door that's usually dark. Since it's not the guest bedroom that Roy Harper is currently occupying, it means this must be the room that they've given to Jason.

Like an arrow to a bowstring, Bruce's feet draw him forwards and, before he knows it, he's lifted his hand and rattled off a series of sharp knocks against the wood.

The sound echoes in the wide hallway, tapers off, and then very quietly he hears Jason say, "It's open."

He looks terrible, is what Bruce thinks as he opens the door just enough to slip inside and then close it behind him again. Jason's sat at the head of the bed, knees drawn up tight to his chest as he watches Bruce enter warily, and there's a fragility to him that has nothing to do with weakness and everything to do with the ravages of loss: a pain Bruce knows all too well. It takes everything he has not to march on over to the bed, pull the still-teenager in against his side and ruffle his curls the way he always used to, the way his alpha instincts tell him to comfort his lost omega pup.

"You should be resting." Bruce says instead, as gently as he can manage.

Jason shrugs, his eyes - despite the prominent shadows beneath them - are bright and alert in his too-pale face. "Figured you'd show up at some point tonight." He draws in a deep breath, "So let's get it over with. Say what you came to say, old man."

The way Jason says it, like a man facing the gallows, goes right to Bruce's heart. He never wanted Jason to look at him as his judge and jury, yet hadn't it always been that way? Hasn't he always presented all his Robin's with impossibly hard standards, and the one's that came after Dick even more so. He'd told himself he had to in order for them to stay alive doing what they did, never thinking past that to the adverse reaction it could have to their perceptions of their relationship with him.

None of it, he reflects with an internal wince, had been enough to stop Jason from dying in the end.

Bruce approaches the bed under Jason's apprehensive watch, trying to consciously keep his motions slow and non-threatening, but the scent of Jason's distress fills the air regardless. "Jason," he begins softly as he sits down on the very edge of the bed, "son..."

"I'm not your son."

"You are." Bruce shakes his head, "Always, Jason." And that's why it all hurts so much really, for both of them. There's no amount of denial and anger that's ever going to stop that, or kill the fact that Bruce cares about Jason to the point that it feels like a bullet wound in his chest shot from Jason's own gun when Jason looks at him this way. He wants Jason to know that, that's it's never been a case of Dick or any of the others over him, that they are all, every single one, his children, his _pack_ , and Bruce is never going to stop feeling that. "You've never stopped being my son."

"Jesus," Jason mutters, shaking his head. "I don't... come on, Bruce, this isn't what you came to talk about. You don't have to lie to me."

"I would have done almost anything to get you back after you died, _anything_." In the depths of his grief he'd even considering testing the limits of a Lazarus Pit, in a supreme show of irony. "All I ever wanted was to protect you."

Jason tenses further, continuing to shake his head in denial. "Bruce -"

"I need you to understand that, Jason." He continues, "Nothing you can do is ever going to change that fact."

Jason looks vaguely stunned, and more than a little-wrong footed, like he honestly expected that Bruce could really have stopped loving him after the events that took place five months ago. It doesn't take him long to recover though, "So what, it's all okay? Everything I've done, all the people I've killed, you're just going to let bygones be bygones because I gave you a sob story after I got dragged home against my will?"

Bruce knows better than to lie here, even if he were inclined to try. "No, Jason, it's not okay. But right now there are other things we need to focus on."

"Damian." Jason says his son's name like a prayer. "Dick said he'd help me get him back."

"And so will I." He'd expected nothing less of Dick when he left him to speak to Jason first. "We've already started sifting through the information we have, and Oracle is listening out for any fresh chatter regarding League movements."

"When you find her I'm coming with you."

Bruce frowns, "Jason, you need to recover, your wounds -"

"I don't _care._ " Jason snaps, nostrils flaring as the snarl curls his lips, "I'll sit and heal like a good boy while you do the legwork if you want, but when you go to confront her I'm going to be there too. I don't care if it's tomorrow, two weeks or a month from now, I'm going and don't you dare try and stop me."

This is the Jason Bruce remembers more than any other. The stubborn, brilliant, caring boy with a chip in his shoulder, who always viewed kidnapping and abuse cases with the worst scorn. Now, with his own child as the focus, his intent is a hundred times more potent, and Bruce highly suspects that if he did try to deny him they'd find Jason halfway out to Gotham come sunrise despite his wounds.

There's really no other choice but to agree, short of locking Jason back up again, which would be a disastrous course of action in other ways. "All right," Bruce forces out, against his better instincts, "but you will rest until then, and you won't attempt to leave the manor on your own either. I'm not risking another of Talia's assassins trying to take you down."

Jason looks deeply unhappy about that last part, but he clenches his jaw and nods. "Deal. Anything else?" 

"No." 

For a moment Bruce thinks that's all there's going to be, but Jason takes a breath before throwing out one final cutting reminder. "This doesn't make things okay between us, Bruce."

"I know, Jason." His frown deepens as he bites back the words he wants to say, the demands and arguments that he promised Dick he would keep to himself for now, and replaces them with a simple, "And we will discuss that, later."

Jason's glare intensifies, and a brief, awkward silence descends on the two of them, as they each try to figure out where to take the conversation from there. Bruce thinks it might be better to end it, to bid Jason good night and leave him alone while the going's good, except he's not quite ready to go yet. There's more he needs to know.

"Your son, Damian," Bruce begins, watching Jason's attention snap back to him instantly from where it had wandered down to staring at his cast, "How old is he now?"

"Almost two." Jason answers, after a beat of hesitation. "He's uh, nineteen months old now."

A bolt of nausea runs through Bruce's stomach as he performs the mental calculations. Nineteen months... Jason was just a couple months shy of turning twenty now, which meant Damian would have been conceived when he was seventeen. 

The age of consent might vary from country to country, even state to state, but it still makes Bruce grit his teeth when he thinks about how young Jason would have been. More so when he remembers Alfred telling them of Jason admitting to having spent at least a year of the time preceding that in either a coma or a catatonic state. He might be almost twenty in body, but how old was he in his own mind?

Bruce can taste the last lingering shreds of what had been between him and Talia shrivelling up and dying in his mouth.

"Don't," he hears Jason say roughly, as if he's reading Bruce's mind. "Don't look at me like that, Bruce."

"Jason, she -"

"Nothing happened that I didn't want to happen." His second Robin insists, and what little colour there is left in his face drains away as he meets Bruce's eyes. Bruce can virtually see Jason working to make himself believe that. "She offered, and I said yes, that's all there is to it."

His hands tighten into fists against his thighs to hear him talk that way. Jason, who was always the one most deeply affected by crimes of that nature because of his background in Crime Alley. "You were seventeen, and if you were already in heat when she made that offer..." his voice very nearly cracks, " _Jason._ "

"Shut up. It doesn't matter, none of it matters." Jason shakes his head, the smell of his distress building back up in the air as he draws himself in tighter against the headboard of the bed. When he speaks next Bruce can hear the grief in his voice, "She stole my _son_. Getting him back is all I care about."

Bruce can't help it this time. He reaches out, his hand touching Jason's shoulder, and the moment his fingers connect Jason makes a sound, a _whine_ that cuts through to the heart of him. It's so sudden, so unexpected, that even Jason looks shocked at himself for making it; it's the sound of an upset child to their parent, asking for comfort.

A moment later he has his son in his arms, holding him as tightly as he can to his chest without jarring the boy's punctured shoulder or broken wrist. At first Jason tries to hit him with his cast, before with a forlorn cry he tucks his head under Bruce's chin as his shoulders shake. "I've got you," Bruce murmurs fervently into his hair, before starting a low comforting rumble, half-growl and half-purr. "I've got you, Jason, you're safe." 

"I _hate_ you." Jason whispers, and then every noise he makes after that into Bruce's chest is raw anguish. He clings tighter to Bruce instead of trying to push him away. _Mine_ whispers some savage part of Bruce's psyche; his son, the lost member of his pack. 

The one he'd never believed would ever come home again. 

By the time Jason's shaking stops, and his breathing evens out, the first light of dawn is starting to peek around the edges of the curtains. Bruce, throat sore from his relentless humming, pulls back very carefully to look at his face without disturbing him. It seems even sleep can't take the wounded look from Jason's sharp features.

Very carefully he settles his boy back down on the mattress, arranging long limbs in the position that will put the least pressure on his wounds, before covering Jason up with a blanket. Instinct tells him to stay, to curl up with Jason and keep him safe through his dreams, but Bruce knows better than to think this moment will linger to when Jason wakes up again. There's still too much bitterness between them, too much conflict over past failures and split ideologies.

 _Baby steps,_ Alfred's voice murmurs sensibly into his ear, and so Bruce stands, scrubbing his hand over the stubble on his jaw as he reluctantly forces himself to head for the door. He doubts he'll be able to sleep even if he tries, and with Dick likely out of the cave by now there's the chance of Bruce being able to get a few hours of work done alone without interruption.

As carefully as he can, Bruce closes Jason's door behind him and makes his way back downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama, so much drama! But at least everyone's all on the same page now, right?
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and left kudos or comments, you guys are a fantastic inspiration as I slowly work my way through this behemoth <3 The next chapter should be out in a couple weeks, near Christmas, and will feature the gift of Dick's perspective. :'D


	4. Chapter 4

"You sure you don't want me to stay here?" Roy asks, arms folded across his chest as they stand in the manor's foyer. 

His bag with all his vigilante gear stowed in it sits at his feet next to his bow case, and he shoots a look over at Jason as he talks. Jason, who's sitting on the bottom of the stairs, unobtrusively but obviously watching and listening to the exchange.

Dick follows Roy's glance, then shakes his head, pushing down on his own misgivings about the situation. "I'm sure. We'll be fine, Roy, I've kept you away from home long enough."

"I'm not disagreeing with you, it's just... If I were in his place and it was Lian who'd been taken..."

Roy scratches the inside of his arm, a nervous habit that he'd never quite been able to shake even after recovering from his addiction. It frequently reappeared when he was feeling anxious or stressed out for any reason, usually without Roy even realising he was doing it.

"I know." Dick says sympathetically, internally echoing Roy's feelings. Lian might not be his daughter, but he loves her enough himself to get some inkling of what Jason must be feeling right now. "All the more reason for you to go spend some time with her now, right?"

"Yeah." Roy doesn't look like he can bring himself to argue with that reasoning. Dick knows it kills him every time he leaves Lian to go fight the good fight. "But you better call me the moment you find that bitch, okay? I want in on this one."

Dick is starting to think this rescue mission is getting crowded enough as it is, but he's also pretty sure that if he says no Roy will just go pick up Lian and come straight back to the manor to stake it out. He could be pretty ridiculous like that. 

"I promise, Roy, you'll know when I know. And if you can get hold of Chesire -"

"Yeah." Roy waves away the mention of his ex - who he currently has a sort of fragile peace because of their daughter - and nods. "You got it, Dick. All ears to the ground."

Dick moves in for a quick hug, but when they part he notices there's an odd look on Roy's face, one he can't immediately deduce. "... what?"

Roy scratches the corner of his jaw, over the fine red stubble sprouting there. Most male omega's weren't capable of growing a lot of facial hair, but Roy was an exception. "Just, you know, be careful, Dick."

"I'm always careful."

"Yeah, no." Roy snorts, "You say that, then you usually end up trussed up somewhere, black and blue _inside_ your costume, and someone else has to come save your ass."

"You say that like it's just me." Dick quips back immediately, grinning. 

"Well, this time let's both try to avoid that. And I'm serious," Roy doesn't laugh with him. Instead he lowers his voice and turns his head so Jason can't hear him, nor read his lips. "I know he's your brother, and I know you're a bleeding heart and you want to help him, but don't lose perspective on this one, all right?"

"Roy, I don't know what you mean by that, but -"

"Yeah, you do." Roy cuts him off, "You're like, the patron saint of lost causes, and I don't want to see you get hurt if this one goes south after we bring home the kid." He sighs and shakes his head, "Seriously, Dick. Perspective."

"That's not -" He wants to deny it, but the truth is Roy knows him better than that and it won't do Dick any good to pretend otherwise. If he did Roy would probably just pull up a whole host of examples to prove him wrong from their shared past, starting with Roy himself. "Yeah, okay. I'll try to be careful."

"That's probably the best I can ask for with you." Roy rolls his eyes, before finally smiling again. He wastes no further time in grabbing up his bow case and travel bag. "See you soon, Dick." 

"Count on it, Roy."

On his way out Roy tosses a salute at Jason, and Dick's surprised to see the younger omega give a tiny nod in return. Maybe Roy has been a more positive influence during his brief time around his little brother than he thought.

It's almost enough to make him call his friend back, but, however sad Dick is to see Roy go, he wasn't lying when he said they'd be fine. Or at least he hopes they will be. This is a matter of family after all, and his family, more than most others, is complicated.

The door shuts and Dick turns his attention to Jason, approaching him where he sits with slow careful strides that do nothing to help his younger brother relax. Ever since Jason woke up in the bat cave he's looked ready to bolt, only held back by the fact that staying is his best shot at getting his son back.

"Hey," Dick says, trying to sound calm and assuring, like the older brother and alpha he's meant to be. "that step comfortable?"

Jason shrugs in answer, his eyes only briefly flicking up to look at Dick before focusing back on the front door. Dick takes that as an invitation to sit down next to him, fixing a smile on his face. "Oh yeah, prime step real-estate here." 

Jason doesn't answer him, so Dick continues talking, well aware he probably sounds like an idiot right now, but that's something of the point. Talking helps, even when only one person is doing it, and Dick was long used to carrying out one-sided conversations from living in this house. "Hey, do you remember when we slid down the banisters here? I think we drove Alfred a little crazy, especially when we broke that vase. And that time -"

"You want something, Dick?" Jason cuts him off before he can get further into the story, expression stony.

Dick flounders for a moment. Clearly Jason's not ready for any fond reminiscing just yet. "I uh, was actually going to ask you that."

"Some cigarette's would be nice."

He grimaces, because that's not quite what he had in mind when he asked. "How about something a little more healthy?"

Jason shoots him a piercing look in response, "So..." he starts, drawls really, "when you ask me if there's anything I want, you mean is there anything I want that you approve of."

"You know the manor rules, Jay." Dick rubs the back of his neck uneasily. "Alfred would kill me if I let you smoke around here."

"Sure, blame the butler for you still being a pathetic goody two-shoes." Jason rolls his eyes before standing up. For a moment Dick's primed to jump up and support him should he look ready to fall, but Jason stubbornly forces himself to maintain his balance all on his own. "See if you can get me some damn suppressant pills instead, then. The one's I had got left behind in Turkey when you dragged me over here."

Now that's idea Dick can get behind, as an unexpected heat is the last thing Jason needs right now, especially when Dick's not supposed to leave him alone in the house. He can't help the brief uncomfortable flashback to the last time he was around Jason when he was in heat, and wonders if his brother still remembers the incident as well. "Sure thing, Jay." 

Then Dick decides to take a risk, even though he's sure it'll backfire. "Hey, you want to come downstairs with me, say goodbye to Bruce?"

"And make nice with my replacement? Hell no, I'll be in the kitchen with the only sane person is this fucked up family."

"Tim's going to be helping, " Dick starts, gritting his teeth as he stands up as well. Just hearing Jason refer to Tim that way sets him on edge. "And he didn't replace you, the same as you didn't replace me. He's a good kid, and he looked up to you when you were Robin. If you'd come down and just give him a chance I think you'd -"

"I don't want to hear it, Dick. You know why?" Jason looks pointedly at him before turning away, "Because I don't _care_." And before Dick can say another word he's walking stiffly through the door leading towards the kitchen, leaving his older brother to glare uselessly at his back.

"Can't believe I forgot how much of a brat he could be." Dick mutters to himself, before shaking his head and heading for the grandfather clock in the study. He makes himself take a couple calming breaths before turning the hands to 10:48pm.

Downstairs Bruce and Tim are already in full costume. Tim probably has been ever since flying in from the Titan's earlier this morning. His youngest brother looks up when Dick comes down the stairs, and he honestly can't tell if there's more relief or disappointment on Tim's face that Jason hasn't accompanied him.

"Hey baby bird!" Dick doesn't have to force himself to smile this time, looping his arm around Tim's shoulders and ruffling his hair. "All ready for another rip-roaring adventure?"

"Rip-roaring? If that's what you want to call it, yeah." Tim replies dryly, trying to duck out of the hug, but Dick keeps a tight hold. "Jealous you're not coming?"

"You know I never miss a chance to punch bad guys if I can help it." His smile tightens on his face, and Dick turns his gaze over to his pack leader. "Sure you don't want me to come with, Bruce?"

"Tim and I can handle this, Dick. I need you here to keep an eye on Jason in case there's another attack on him." Bruce answers, without turning his head away from the computer. _And in case he tries to leave_ goes unsaid.

Dick grimaces. Good old Bat-paranoia, nothing beat it. It was going to drive him up the wall to sit around on his hands waiting though, almost as much as it was surely going to kill Jason to rely on others to do the hunting for him. Still, Dick can't deny that out of all of them he's probably the best choice to play babysitter. "Okay, Bruce. Just... find them quick, all right?"

"I intend to."

Bruce hits a final key before sweeping up into the Batjet without another word. He's been more brooding than usual since that first night, full of a simmering anger that goes above and beyond the first burst of rage that happened after Jason's story came to light. Dick doesn't think he's slept at all, and he's surprised Bruce is even taking Tim along with him. Usually when he got like this he insisted on working alone, no matter how dire the situation was.

Speaking of...

"Watch his back for me okay, Tim?" Dick looks sidelong down at his baby brother, "He's going to need you."

"Come on, Dick, what else would I do?" Tim answers him, a humourless smile on his lips before he slides out from under Dick's arm. He hesitates at the bottom of the plane's ramp, looking back at Dick. "Jason, is he - I mean, does he..."

"He'll be fine, Tim. We'll be fine." Dick lies, almost effortlessly. "He just needs some space. You can meet him when you guys get back. Now," He gestures at the plane, "hurry up before Bruce takes off without you."

Tim doesn't look convinced, but he still nods at Dick before vanishing up into the jet's belly after Bruce with a flicker of his black and yellow cape. A second later the ramp pulls up and Dick has to step back out of the way as the engine roars, carrying Batman and Robin out of the cave and into the sky.

Not for the last time he wishes he was going with them.

 

*

 

It's awkward at first. For Dick, for all of them left behind in the manor.

All the years in which Jason had been _dead_ and gone had locked him in everyone's minds as the tragic vision of the young teenager he had been when he died (small and funny, with a biting wit and a heart two sizes too big for his chest), and realistically speaking there was no precedent, no rule book, for how you were supposed to behave when the dead came back to life. No easy back button for all the stages of grieving that they'd gone through.

Having Jason back in the manor now, real and breathing and _alive_ , forced them all to confront the reality that he wasn't that little boy anymore, not by a long shot. He'd become an adult; tall, strong and deadly in all the ways Bruce had never wanted any of them to be. Yet, at the same time, Dick can see that he's still painfully young in other ways, wrapped up in something that's far too big for him to handle alone and only barely acknowledging that fact.

It's a lot to take in, and so for the first three days he and Dick orbit carefully around each other as they each figured out how their forced proximity was going to work. The old dynamics and pack rules no longer worked, not with Jason so volatile and unwilling to accept the hierarchy he had once been part of. It's something which really grates at Dick's nerves, thanks to his alpha designation demanding to see submission from the junior members of the pack - and Jason still was pack, no matter what he'd done. 

Still, Dick's determined to give him space and not push Jason into anything he's not ready for. Bruce had taught them all that they were more than their instincts, far more, and if Dick can manage to follow that doctrine out in the field as Nightwing he can certainly follow it in his childhood home when it really matters.

Jason for the most part varies his time between his room, the kitchen and the library; the very same places that had been his favourite haunts when he lived in the manor the first time, and truth be told Alfred actually see's more of Jason than Dick does in those early days. Dick tells himself that's fine, that he's more grateful there's someone Jason feels comfortable being around than hurt that his little brother seems to be avoiding him.

Alfred, for his part, seems to have taken Jason's presence as a challenge to his skills as a butler.

Dinner becomes an experience in nostalgia, as every meal they've had since Jason was allowed up out of the cave have been his old favourites. Some of them are recipe's that Dick can't remember eating since before Jason died, because, like everything else to do with Jason in the years between then and his reappearance in the land of the living, even his favourite food's had become taboo for a while. 

Privately it makes Dick wonder if Alfred believes that by reminding Jason how good a place home can be to him, he might be able to turn him back from the darker path he's chosen to walk - or at the very least make Jason feel better about his current situation. Dick can't say he blames him for trying.

Dick himself divides his time between trying to keep an eye on Jason up in the manor and going down into the cave to read the latest news from Bruce, Tim and Barbara, as well as watching Bludhaven from afar and checking up with Cass on patrol in the city. His one and only sister is working hard alongside the Birds of Prey to pick up the slack with three of the city's defenders currently elsewhere, and Dick can't be prouder of her for it.

He's actually debating the wisdom of asking Cassandra to come up to the manor to meet Jason - thinking that the two of them might get on okay since she's a Batgirl more than she's a Robin - when he passes his little brothers room, his _old_ room, and notices that the door is slightly ajar.

This could be a good thing, or very, very bad.

Slowly Dick pushes the door open, and the first thing that hits him isn't Jason's own scent (a warm, heavy smell, with a hint of sweetness that reminds him of the mulled wine Alfred makes at Christmas), or the rise of dust, it isn't even the usual pang of maudlin grief that this room tended to inspire in anyone who entered it. No, it's the smell of cigarette smoke.

"Where the heck did you get those?" Dick blurts out, before he thinks any better of himself, his eyes wide at the sight of Jason perched next to his open window. It's dark out, and the lit end of the cigarette Jason is holding clumsily in his right hand is the only light in the room, except for what's shining in from the hallway now that Dick's opened the door.

"You guys never cleared out my room, remember?" Jason says, quickly recovering from his own surprise and looking back out of the window across the manor's grounds. "I always kept a pack taped under my bed."

Dick shuts the door behind him, plunging the room back into the darkness before he walks forwards across the carpet to join Jason at the window. 

There are posters on the walls of bands and movies long out of date, their corners curled and peeling with age, as well as clothes strewn on the bed that would never fit Jason's taller stature now. Even his old guitar still leans against a corner of the room, forgotten and covered in dust since Alfred could only bear to come in and clean twice a year. It's creepy to say the least, because after Jason's death his bedroom became an empty tomb, a morbid shrine of sorts, and there's still something sacrilegious about breaching its threshold to Dick, even with the room's owner sitting in front of him. It's actually worse with Jason present, because the wounded adult stands out so clearly against the trappings of the boy who once lived here.

"Bruce was so sure you'd really quit back then."

"We all have our vices, Dickie, and it just goes to prove Bruce doesn't know everything." His brother shrugs, then winces before pointedly taking another drag. Dick watches him blow the smoke out in a ring through the window. "Gotta keep sane, somehow."

Dick itches to snatch the cigarette away from him and throw it out the window, but he reminds himself that Jason's not a little kid anymore. It's actually legal for him to smoke now if he chooses to, but that doesn't mean Dick has to like it. "Those things will kill you."

"Tell me something I don't know." Jason looks at the half-burned stick for a moment. "I quit, you know, soon as I found out I was pregnant. Didn't start up again until after I found out what Talia had done."

The way Jason says her name is a like a curse these days, when he bothers to say it at all.

Dick smiles sadly at the admission, "I never would have thought otherwise, Jay. You're a good mom."

The words are a mistake.

"The hell do you know about it?!" Jason snaps back suddenly, as Dick's attempt at praise falls flat on its face. 

"Jason, I -"

"Not good enough to stop my kid from getting kidnapped, was I?! Not good enough to get him back without having to come crawling for help from you _fucks_."

"I know you!" He bursts out. At least he thinks he does, and the reply comes out more sharply then he means it to. "And I know you love Damian." But that answer doesn't stop Jason from continuing to scowl his way and looking ready to tear Dick a new one, so he hurriedly switches tactics, groping for another topic to distract his brother with. "Tell me about him."

"What?"

"Damian. You said I don't know anything about you and him, right? So tell me." Slowly Dick settles down on the carpet near Jason's feet, near enough that Jason could clock him a good one in his jaw before Dick could react if he wanted to. He hopes that fact will help put him at ease. 

Jason looks at him like he's just grown another head, but Dick's request has given him pause, and he doesn't seem so openly angry anymore as he thinks it over.

Dick let's him take all the time he needs, sitting patiently as Jason finishes the rest of his cigarette. Eventually he starts to talk, voice rough and low, in a way that isn't entirely from the smoke. "Damian, he uh..."

Jason fumbles another cigarette out of the packet, and Dick doesn't have the heart to tell him not to. "He's amazing. He's great, he... looks like me, mostly, I think. Dark hair - straight, not curly, and green eyes. Real green, no blue like mine." These details Dick already knows, since Jason had to provide a physical description for them so Bruce knew what to look for before he took off, but he doesn't mind hearing them again. "Got the good fortune of being an alpha, though he wasn't lucky enough not to get my nose."

Dick can't help it, he laughs, and Jason's mouth crooks up into a smile for a second as he manages to get his cigarette lit with a pack of matches he must have taken from the kitchen. He throws the match out of the window when he's done. "I don't think your nose looks bad, Jay. It matches the rest of your face."

"Yeah well, you don't have to live with it, Grayson. Asshole." Jason inhales before carrying on. He seems more at ease with every word. 

"He's a quiet kid. I never knew what to make of that, except for being grateful that it let me get some sleep. Wasn't talking yet last I saw him, though Jesus he could crawl. Almost had the hang of walking too. I only had to take my eyes off him for a second before he'd be trying to disappear into something he shouldn't."

Hearing Jason talk about his kid in the past tense hurts, but Dick can't help feeling that it's also like drawing poison from a wound for him. "Sounds a lot like you."

"I guess." Jason shrugs his good shoulder, "I never liked animals the way Damian does though, he's obsessed. Figured his first word would be 'dog', never mind 'mom'." And just like that the sadness steals over Jason's face again. "I guess... guess he's probably talking a little now, huh? That's normal by nineteen months, right?"

Dick forces himself to nod. "Yeah, Jay, it is." He fishes around for something better, something more positive to say. "Maybe I'll get him a puppy when we bring him home."

"What?"

"A Great Dane, like Ace was." Dick says warmly, fingers brushing against Jason's bare toes. "That's a surefire way to be the best uncle ever, right?" Ace had died a couple years before Jason came into the house, but there's still plenty of photo's with him in them to be found hanging on the walls.

Jason's toes curl, and he retaliate's by shoving his foot into Dick's thigh. "You can't buy my son's love with a puppy, Dick."

"Maybe not, but it'll be a start." He flashes a grin at him. "Hey, you wanna come down to the kitchen and grab some ice-cream? I think there's neopolitan."

"You can't buy my love either." Jason snorts and rolls his eyes, then takes another drag from his cigarette. Dick thinks he's joking, mostly. "Maybe another time. I think I'm going to stay in here a little bit longer."

"Sure, Jay." Dick tries to hide the disappointment in his voice as he stands back up. It's not an outright rejection at least. "You know where to find me."

"Yeah," He hears Jason mutter as he tiptoe's back out of the room, "It's usually within twenty feet of wherever I am."

 

*

 

In the end it's not Dick that Jason ends up sharing the ice-cream with, it's Cassandra.

Dick follows up on his previous inspiration to invite Cass up to the manor to meet Jason at the weekend, and he's more than happy when their meeting results in quiet respect, rather than resentment on Jason's part. He thinks his little brother was surprised to find out he wasn't the only omega in the family now, though it took Jason a little while to realise that fact with how faint Cassandra's natural scent is.

Not because of any meaningful deception on Cass' part, nor a result of fading neutraliser. No, it came down to one of the many cruelties Cassandra's bastard of a father had visited on her. David Cain had wanted a perfect weapon and perfect weapons didn't get waylaid by heats four times a year, thus Cassandra's scent had never matured the way most people's did after they hit puberty; something that was as grimly useful as it was horrifying.

Dick can honestly say there isn't another alpha on earth that he'd relish punching more than David Cain, except maybe Talia al Ghul.

So, as soon as he's sure Jason's not going to try and kill anyone, Dick gives them some space, let's Jason get to know Cassandra all on his own, even though Dick's dying for some extra company himself. He makes do with calling Roy instead, who unfortunately hasn't been able to contact Chesire, but has plenty to rant about to Dick over Lian managing to ruin three dresses in as many hours.

By the time he's done laughing at his friends misfortune and wandered back down into the kitchen, it's to find Jason and Cass hunkered around an empty tub of ice-cream, with Alfred humming happily in the background as he cleans the dishes.

The sight warms his heart, and Jason doesn't even sneer at him when Dick joins them at the table, playfully joking about there not being any ice-cream left for him.

"He's good." Cassandra tells him later in the cave, when she's back in costume and preparing to leave. There's still a sticky stain of ice-cream on her lips. "Jason. He's killed, but... he's good. Just scared, sad. Angry. Very angry."

Normally Dick would ask someone how they could possibly know that for certain, but this is Cassandra. She reads people like Tim reads data. "You think he can come back? Be one of us again?"

Cass shrugs one shoulder, "Maybe. If he wants to." She frowns, before reaching to pull her cowl up, "He needs his son first, so he can believe."

"Believe in what?"

"Us. Himself. Anything." Cassandra taps her fingers against Dick's chest, directly over his heart, before climbing onto her motorcycle. "You need to believe in him too."

With that enigmatic comment she speeds out into the night, leaving Dick to rub his head in consternation. "I'm trying." He mutters to himself, "I really am."

 

*

 

"What does Jason talk to you about?" Dick asks Alfred two days later, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He feels like he's overloaded with energy since he can't go out and run, and working out on the cave's gym equipment isn't nearly enough of a substitute.

Alfred looks considerately at him for a moment, hands paused in peeling potato's before he delicately says, "I rather think that's between myself and Master Jason, don't you?"

No matter how gently put it's still a rebuke, and Dick ducks his head down in swift apology. "It's just that he won't talk to me. Every time I try it's like he just shuts down. I want to help him, but I don't know how."

Ever since the conversation they'd had in Jason's old bedroom Jay had been avoiding him, or trying to at least. Eventually it had gotten to the point of Jason shouting at Dick to 'Stop his hovering' and leave him alone (usually in less polite terms), which Dick shamefully had tried to do while still holding true to his promise to keep an eye on Jason while Bruce was gone.

"I'm afraid there are no magical shortcuts to trust and understanding, Master Dick." Alfred puts down his peeling knife and leans his hands on the table. "Sometimes patience and time are the key, and if you really want Jason to open up to you that is what is required. He is still wary of recrimination from us regarding his past activities."

"I wish I knew what to tell him about that." Dick worries his lip with his teeth, "Bruce hasn't made any decision I know of, but you know how he can be."

"I do indeed." There's honest worry on Alfred's face as they both consider it. Bruce has morals, they all do, strong one's maintained by hard lines that must never be crossed and Jason had done just that. The difference between Jason and any other person though is that he's family, pack, and that muddied the waters an awful lot. Dick wouldn't be surprised if Bruce has been having some kind of constant internal crisis over the subject ever since he left.

He drums his fingers on the wall behind him. "Cass killed and she's here. Jason deserves the chance to turn himself around too."

The question is whether or not he would take it. If he can refrain from following the personal beliefs that he doesn't seem inclined to change and obey whatever future ultimatum Bruce will issue for Jason to come back into the fold, or at least to remain out and free to raise his son. Dick wants to believe that he will, that he won't refuse or attempt to take the third option by trying to run from them all over again with Damian.

He wants his little brother back for real this time. He wants to meet and get to know his nephew, so that Dick can spoil him as rotten as he does Lian. More than that he wants Jason to realise that there's been a hole in their pack ever since he died, one that could never be filled by anyone else, and that's he's never, _ever_ been replaced by anyone. And certainly not by Tim.

An idea strikes him, "Maybe I should try and get Jason to speak to Roy again, it seemed to help back when we first brought him home."

There's a sudden twinkle in Alfred's eye and Dick blinks, frowns. "What?"

"On that front, Master Dick, you are something of a latecomer."

Dick's eyes go wide. "Wait, what? Jason's been talking to Roy? Since when?"

"Your friend is more astute than many give him credit for. I believe he gave Jason his number before he left to return home." Alfred picks up his knife and starts peeling the potato's for dinner again, as if he hadn't just dropped the proverbial bombshell.

There's not much else Dick can say in the face of that, except, "Huh."

Later (after going down to the cave and checking the phone records from the manor's land lines to see that there were indeed a couple calls to Roy's number in the last week that Dick himself is not responsible for) Dick calls up Roy again himself. "Why didn't you tell me you gave Jason your number?"

"Well hello to you too, Dick." He can practically hear Roy rolling his eyes at him down the phone. "No, damn - darn it, Lian, put that down!"

Dick sits and waits with the phone to his ear for Roy to get control of his daughter, his foot tapping a nervous beat on the cave floor. Finally Roy turns his attention back to their conversation, after turning on what sounds like Lian's favourite pre-school show; the one about the little rabbit with a living toy for a nanny.

"Okay, the munchkin's occupied. What's up, Dick?"

"You gave Jason your number." Dick doesn't mean for it to sound like an accusation, and winces when it does. He has no idea why it bothers him so much that Roy did it without running it by him first. Heck, he didn't even realise that it bothered him at all until just now.

Luckily Roy has about a decade's worth of experience at speaking Dick-ish by this point.

"Yeah. That a problem?"

"No." Dick answers quickly, fumbling. "Just... why?"

"Because you asked me to, remember?"

"Um," Dick wracks his brains for a moment and comes up empty, "No?"

There's a moment of reproachful silence down the phone before Roy sighs and answers, "Okay bird-brain, remember when you asked me to go sit with him down in the cave after we brought him back? You asked if I could try talking to him, that maybe he'd respond better to someone outside your pack?"

"Of course I do." Dick replies, missing the connection. "But I didn't think you'd -"

"I don't leave a job half-done, Dick, you should know that by now. Jaybird still needs that lifeline out of all your crazy Bat-habits, so I told him to call me when your mother-henning got too much for him to handle."

He groans, "Roy, I don't - I don't _mother-hen_ , alright? I'm just trying to help him, and it's hard when he won't let me."

Then he remembers Jason yelling at him to leave him alone suddenly and winces. Okay, so maybe he is a bit of a mother hen, but it's been for the right reasons.

Roy snickers, like he can hear the cogs turning in Dick's head all the way in Star City, "You are being such an alpha right now, you know that?"

"In a good or bad way?"

"Little of column A, little of column B."

"Roy." Dick whines, putting his hand over his face as he leans forward over the computer console. "Not helping."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." It doesn't sound like he's sorry, but Dick will take what he can get. "So I take it things between you and Jason aren't running smoothly?"

"Hasn't he told you?"

"Nope." Roy pops the 'p' on the end of the word, "Mostly when he calls I just talk to him about shi - uh, regular stuff. About Lian mostly."

Dick's not sure what to make of that at first, but then he thinks about it, about how Jason has been without any shred of what could be called normalcy for a long time. Maybe not since before... he shudders. Jason came back to life and had to claw his way out of his own _grave_ , then he was thrown into the Pit, and before all of that...

No, normalcy is definitely not something anyone in their family is used to. Dick however understands the longing for it, the sometimes wish that life wasn't so constantly hectic and full of danger. He knew he often treasured the quieter moments over the thrills of being a hero (as much as he loved it); simple little things, like going out to a bar with friends or celebrating a child's birthday.

With everything going off in Jason's life right now, and the feeling of being trapped and helpless while others were out doing the job he felt he should be doing, getting to let go and listen to someone else's mundane issues for a little while must be a blessing.

"Dick?" Roy prompts, and Dick realises he's been sitting in silence for over a minute now. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just... I was just thinking."

"Well don't hurt yourself."

"You're hilarious."

"I know." At Roy's side he can hear the end credits starting to play on Lian's programme. "But seriously Dick, I know it's hard for you, but you really do need to just sit back and give Jason some space. Stop crowding him with your alpha-ness. Maybe take a night off and go beat up some bad guys."

Dick smiles, "Bruce wouldn't like that."

"Yeah, because you always do what Batman likes."

That's a damn good point. "I gotta go, Roy, thanks for the talk."

"Anytime."

*

Dick takes the advice.

He tells Alfred, but not Jason, and makes sure the old beta keeps a direct line active to him while he's out fighting crime, just in case.

It's only fours hours in the suit, but by the time he gets back to the manor Dick feels like he can breathe again, and suddenly the prospect of Jason doesn't seem so intimidating anymore. It makes sense that he was going stir crazy trapped inside the house, Grayson's were meant to fly, and Dick always thinks best on his feet.

The idea occurs to him that if it worked for him then maybe it'll work for Jason too.

"Hey, Jason," Dick walks into the library, swinging the key to one of the Ferrari's from Bruce's impressive collection around his finger. "Want to go for a ride?" 

Jason looks at him over the top of his book for a long moment, suspicion writ across his face. "Is that a joke?"

"No." Dick shakes his head, "I just thought you might like to get out for a while. We can't go far, and you're not in any shape to go swinging across rooftops still, but..." He makes sure to hold the key chain up where Jason can read the word 'Ferrari' on it and knows he doesn't imagine the longing look on Jason's face. "What do you say?"

"I say you're crazy." Jason responds after a moment, before closing his book with a hint of a smile on his face, "But also, fuck _yes_."

Dick grins back at him, "Come on then."

It's not as reckless as it first sounds. The car, though it looks like it just came out of the showroom, is one of the one's Bruce has tricked out in case he runs into any trouble when in his civilian guise. In addition to a hot red paint job, leather seats and two cup-holders, it's bulletproof, and there's a few of their more commonly used gadgets hidden in various secret compartments around the interior.

Jason looks amused when he opens up the glove compartment and pulls out a couple domino masks and some adhesive from inside.

They end up looping around the road that leads up from Gotham to the manor a couple of times. Jason winds the windows down, and Dick maybe goes a little faster than he should just to see the way Jason's eyes light up at the speed. For a moment it's almost like they're fifteen and nineteen again, respectively, Dick back for a visit from the Titan's and trying his best to bond with his little brother before leaving for another four months.

They'd had a few good times before the end. A few, but not enough.

"Dick."

He flicks his gaze from the road to Jason for a quick moment, "Yeah, little wing?"

Jason licks his lips for a moment, his only visible reaction to the dredging up of that old nickname. The wind pushes his hair back from his face, highlighting the dark circles that still linger under his too-green eyes. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Dick swallows. "Well, not anytime, because Bruce would kill us, but you know..."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that." Jason says, dryly. He runs his hand back through his hair as Dick turns the car back up towards the manor for the final time. "I won't tell if you won't."

Dick holds up his hand for a fist-bump, and wild dogs couldn't stop the grin that crosses his face when Jason barely brushes their knuckles together in return.

*

The ride out helped a lot, but the real breakthrough for them happens the week after.

He knows he shouldn't be here now, idling outside of Jason's new bedroom like some kicked puppy, especially when he's gotten so much better at giving Jason space lately. It's just that Dick worries, he worries a lot, far more than is healthy about those he holds near and dear. And Jason... Jason's something of a special case at the moment.

A nightmare had woken him after he'd barely been asleep for three hours. It was an oldie, and definitely not a goodie, revamped with a brand new ending full of falling parents and the Joker's madcap grin, his laughter filling the air as he knocked the stuffing out of a toy robin with a crowbar. Then the toy robin had morphed into Jason at fifteen, followed by the man he was now, and Dick had been too slow before the timer went off and a baby's cries filled the air alongside the flames and rubble.

All in all, it was pretty messed up.

That's why even guilt isn't enough to stop him reaching for the door handle, or feeling a surge of relief when it opens without resistance. Dick peeks inside, telling himself that he's only going to take a quick look, that he's only going to reassure himself that Jason is real and alive before going back to his own bed.

But the moment he see's Jason curled up into a ball on the bed, his face twisted in his own pained expression, that resolve flies out of the window. Instead Dick moves as quietly as only one of them can and sits down on the floor, with his back leant against the bed. Just for a minute, he'll just stay here for a minute until he's sure Jason isn't wrapped up in a nightmare of his own, and then he'll leave. He _swears_.

Jason's hand hangs over the edge of the bed and, filled with a sudden undeniable urge, Dick reaches up to very carefully loop his fingers around his wrist. He presses his thumb against his brothers pulse point so that he can feel every slow beat of Jason's heart as he sleeps.

 _Alive_ , Dick thinks in renewed wonder, _He's alive._

It shouldn't be so strange to him still, so shocking to feel warm skin and blood running through the vein beneath his touch. Jason has been alive for months, years; fighting, killing and, most surprising of all, becoming a mother of all things. Yet Dick's heart is still in his mouth at the sound of every slumbering breath. When he cranes his neck backwards to see over the edge of the bed he can just about make out the steady rise and fall of Jason's chest.

It comforts him, it horrifies him; it makes Dick inexorably grateful to whatever power it was out there that had decided to bring Jason back to life.

If only they'd noticed back when Jason first resurrected things could've been so different.

Guilt fills Dick's chest easily at the thought of all that Jason has gone through since coming back to life, and he knows Bruce feels that guilt even more keenly. Before taking up the hunt for Talia from where Jason had left off, Bruce had managed to retrace Jason's first steps from his grave to where Talia found him, but all the reasoned knowledge of how and why they had missed that impossible miracle fails to make Dick feel any better about it.

Jason had needed them so many times, but they hadn't been there for him. It's no wonder he can't bring himself to trust them now, even when he undeniably needs their help.

(Talia was as much to blame of course, but Dick has never been much for shying away from a responsibility he knows is partially his.)

Just like that it's hitting Dick all over again. Jason's not only alive, he also has a baby. A son.

He's still so young too, Dick thinks. Painfully young really, Jason isn't even twenty yet. Even by the strange standards of costumed vigilante's that's a young age to have gone through all he has.

And it's not that Dick's excusing Jason for all he's done since coming back - because influenced by the Lazarus Pit or not he'd killed by his own choice,willingly breaking the sacred rule they'd all been taught to live by. That's inexcusable, yet at the same time Dick can't help but read his and Bruce's own failures into the mess of what's happened. It sharply reminds him of the argument he'd had with Bruce after coming back to Earth to find his little brother dead in the ground for two months already, how he'd scolded his mentor for ever allowing Jason to put on the suit on the first place...

How he wished he'd made more of an effort to be part of Jason's life before the worst happened.

Dick just wants to make it better. He wants to set Jason back on the right path, to bring him back home where he belongs, to bring Jason's _son_ back where he belongs.

The unspoken question of what they'll do about Jason after that is something Dick doesn't even want to contemplate just yet.

His fingers instinctively tighten around Jason's wrist, too tight, because a second later his little brother makes a sleepy questioning sound that shoots right to the heart of Dick's alpha instincts, forcing him to bite down on a protectively assuring growl in response. He hopes Jason will just drop back off to sleep instead of waking up, which of course means that he doesn't.

Dick expects Jason to yank his arm free of the hold, yet it remains. "What're you doing, Dick?" Jason instead rasps sleepily.

"I..." Dick swallows, looking up to see Jason staring suspiciously back down at him through half-lidded eyes. His loose curls fall haphazardly around his face, the single lock of white sitting prominently over his right eye. "Sorry, it's just... you're alive, Jason."

As an excuse for why he's slipped into Jason's room in the middle of the night and sat at the side of his bed on the floor, it doesn't sound like a good one.

He see's the corners of Jason's mouth pinch in response, his eyes starting to slide to the side before his little brother resolutely makes himself look forwards. "Yeah," Jason answers roughly, sounding a little like he's being choked by some unknown force. "I know."

He doesn't say anything else, and Dick knows it's on him to explain himself. "When I got back from Tamaran," he starts slowly, "I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't believe no one told me what happened," He expects Jason to scoff here, or make some scathing remark about Bruce, but he stays quiet. "All I could think about afterwards is how I should have been there for you. That if I had been around maybe I could have saved you. That if I'd helped teach you more maybe you could have survived what happened." 

Dick has to stop and swallow, his throat feeling uncomfortably thick. "I had nightmares about it for months afterwards. You're my family, pack, and I should've-"

"What do you want, Dick?" Jason finally interrupts him. "You want me to say I forgive you? Jesus Christ, I don't blame you for not saving me back then, same as I don't blame Bruce. You were off-world, you couldn't possibly have known what was going to happen. You not being there to keep me from getting murdered isn't the problem between us."

Dick winces, but nods. He can't argue there. "I still wish I had."

"Well you know, if wishes were fishes..." Jason starts, and Dick takes it as a good sign he still hasn't pulled his arm away. His little brother sounds rough, mouth pressed into a hard line whenever he isn't talking. "Didn't know you cared so much."

"Of course I care, Jay." Dick says gently, "I always cared."

Jason snorts, making Dick wince in response. "Yeah right, you had the Titan's. Why would you care about the dumb omega kid who took your place? I get you feeling bad that I was killed, your damn martyr complex won't let you do any different, but don't pretend we were anything close."

"I'm not, but that doesn't mean I don't regret that we weren't. That I don't want us to be."

He see's Jason's eyes widen, a flash of naked longing crossing his face before he scowls and turns his head away. "It's too late for that, Dick. It's been too late for years."

"That's not true," Dick starts to say eagerly, "Jason you can still -"

"What?!" Jason snaps, and now he does tug his hand out of Dick's grip, sliding it underneath his pillow instead. "Bare my neck and ask for forgiveness? Just because I got a kid you think Bruce is going to let what I did slide? I know where this is going to end, Dick, and it's not going to be with us playing happy families."

Dick swallows, "Then why did you tell us what happened?"

"Because..." Jason's eyes dart back to him and his head starts to duck down in a classic defensive omega motion, shoulders hunched up around his ears. Dick can pick up the sour stink of fear as it starts to roll off him again, which makes it really hard to rein in his baser protective instincts. "Because Damian deserves better than what Talia's got planned for him. And..." he fumbles, "And if I gotta lose him to someone I'd rather it be -"

"Jason..." 

"- I'd rather it be you guys." Jason forces himself to finish. "And don't try and pretend to me that isn't how this is going to end. I'm not stupid and I'm not naive, I know how the world works. I know how Bruce works."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

Jason shrugs, but it's telling in how he suddenly can't meet Dick's eyes. Dick turns round and sits up on his knees determinedly, looking down at where Jason lies. He makes sure to telegraph his movements very clearly as he reaches to touch his younger brothers hair, and Jason only flinches a little instead of trying to move away. "Little wing..."

"Don't lie to me, Dickie." Jason whispers in a cracked voice, "Don't... I can't stand people lying to me. Just tell me the truth, it doesn't matter how bad it is, I can take it better than you lying any day."

"Okay." He swallows hard, "I won't. I won't lie to you, Jay, I don't know what's going to happen after we get Damian back. I know it won't be easy, whatever it is, and I honestly can't agree with what you've done, though I can forgive you if you want to be forgiven, but I promise you that no matter what I'll make sure Damian's looked after. That he's safe and happy."

It seems to be what Jason wants to hear, because he lets out a great heavy sigh and sinks down into the mattress under the steady motion of Dick's fingers stroking his hair. It's not enough, and yet even doing this much makes Dick wonder if he's going too far when Jason's obviously been so uncomfortable with the idea of anyone but Alfred touching him up until this point. He wants to trust that Jason would tell him to fuck off if he didn't really want this kind of comfort.

 _Damn you, Talia_ Dick thinks venomously. Maybe they all had a hand to play in Jason's ruined ability to trust anyone, but she had definitely put herself in the position of the straw that broke the camel's back.

Dick keeps petting Jason's hair, eventually moving to perch himself on the edge of bed to make it easier. The whole time through Jason doesn't say a single word more than he already has, but Dick observes the tension gradually draining out of his body, inch by inch, until his eyelids start to droop once more. He thinks this is the time to make himself scarce, that he's already intruded enough for one night, but when Dick tries to leave Jason stops him with a hand fisted in his shirt.

"Little wing?" Dick whispers, as loud as he dares for breaking this fragile peace.

"Don't..." Jason starts, then seems to pause to gather himself to say the rest of what he means. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

Dick nods slowly, hearing the unspoken request as clear as day. "Okay. Okay, I won't."

When Jason lets go of him he stands to move round the bed to the unoccupied side, and climbs on to lie down above the covers, whereas Jason is tucked in underneath them. His brother stays facing the other direction, not visibly reacting to the weight of Dick's body sinking into the mattress as he makes himself comfortable enough to sleep. 

"Night, Jay."

There's no answer but the soft sound of Jason's breathing, and comforted by that noise Dick let's himself sink back into sleep as well, hoping his presence will be enough to do whatever it is Jason needs it to.

Maybe this time there'll be no nightmares for either of them.

*

Jason wakes up first.

He can hear and feel Dick's breath snuffling against his ear, and isn't entirely surprised that in sleep his big brother wormed his way across the bed to be closer to him. The way Jason remembers it Dick was always a touchy kind of person, even with him.

It feels surreal that he's here now; even the conversation they'd had last night seems more like a dream than reality. Stranger is that Jason can honestly say it's the best night's sleep he's had since Alfred stopped letting him have the good painkillers instead of the regular kind. God he hates that.

Not the fact that he got a good night's sleep, but that it took Dick being here for it to happen. Dick's stupid open honesty had been aimed with surgical precision, and Jason still feels raw from it - just the same as he did the first night out of the cave when Bruce came into his room and held him as he finally broke down. It's such a damn cliche at the end of the day, especially when he'd sworn never to let them both back into his life and under his skin. A vow that had worked to little effect.

"Jay?" He hears Dick mumble fuzzily as he sits up. It's lucky he hadn't actually grabbed onto Jason in his sleep, else Jason might not have been able to stop himself from hurting Dick to get free.

"Yeah?" Jason answers, rolling his right shoulder carefully to try and ease some of the stiffness from the joint before he reaches up to rub the sand out of the corners of his eyes. He'll be so much happier when he's finally full healed. "What is it?"

"Are you okay?"

Jason risks looking back, meeting Dick's impossible blue eyes and immediately wishing he hadn't. There's too much damn earnest compassion in those eyes, it makes it hard for Jason to look at him.

_I can forgive you if you want to be forgiven._

He looks hastily back away, "Just peachy. Another day, another dollar, right?"

Another twenty-four hours of waiting and driving himself crazy with worry over Damian. It's been too long already, and Jason doesn't know how much longer he can wait for Bruce to come through before he breaks his promise and makes a bid for freedom to continue the hunt for his son himself.

Despite the best efforts of Dick, Alfred and Roy, Jason's just about at a tipping point. What's left of the Pit's influence whispers in his ear, low and accusing, hissing at him to take control and keep ripping everyone in his path apart.

People like Dick, and Bruce, and -

A knock at the door startles him. Dick too, judging by the way he suddenly catapults up out of the bed and onto his feet, taking a couple steps to move in front of Jason before apparently remembering they're in the manor and not out on Gotham's dangerous streets. He looks faintly embarrassed about it.

"Master Jason?"

Dick and Jason share a quick glance between them, before Jason takes in a deep breath and nods, mostly to himself. "Yeah, come in, Alfie."

The door opens, and if Alfred has any negative opinion at finding Dick in Jason's room this early, still wearing his pyjama's no less, he hides it well. "Master Bruce has gotten in touch again this morning, and I thought you would like to hear the message as soon as possible. Both of you, as a matter of fact."

"What is it, Alfred?" Dick asks, because Jason's mouth has gone dry and he's suddenly forgotten how to talk as he clenches his teeth together, hoping, _wishing_ that it's the news they've all been waiting for. He doesn't even object to Dick's hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

"They've found them."

Nothing prepares him to finally hear those words. Jason's suddenly grateful for Dick touching him, his hand is a focal point keeping him grounded in reality as every instinct and emotion he's been fighting to suppress for weeks wells up inside him, and Jason has to bite down on a whimper.

"When?" He finally manages to say, "Where?"

"Last night," Alfred answers promptly and concisely. "He's sent coordinates, and asks that you both ready yourselves to join him and Master Tim in Montenegro as soon as possible. The Batjet is already en route back to the cave to pick you up."

Bruce sent the jet back on autopilot to pick them up, Jason thinks dimly, feeling Dick squeeze his shoulder tighter. This was really happening. They've really found Damian and he's going to get his son back. He's...

He's going to get his son _back_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a short, cool down chapter between all the plot heaviness, then it somehow became the longest part of the story yet. The Dick/Jay feels are just too strong with me.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! The next instalment will take us back to the main plot, which I'm super excited to work on, let me tell you. Some things have been a long time coming.
> 
> p.s Just in case I don't manage to get anything else up before the day, Merry Christmas to all my dear readers who celebrate it! Your reactions and comments are food to my soul <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! I decided to throw this one up a little early for you all than my usual Saturday update schedule, since it was originally due up last weekend. Basically what happened is it kept getting longer and longer (it's over 13k, which is officially the longest individual part I've written of any of my fics), and I decided it was better to hold back on posting than give you all something that was rushed and therefore not as good as it could be. Hopefully you'll all forgive me, especially as this part has the moment we've all been waiting for :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Harper shows up four hours later, fresh off a private plane ride to Gotham.

"Hey, Jaybird!" Roy says brightly as he comes into the entrance hall, bag and bow-case slung over one shoulder. He looks far more alert than Jason would have expected considering Dick had woken him up early to come join the mission. Star City runs about three hours later than Gotham time-wise.

"I thought I told you not to call me that." Jason grunts, with far less hostility than the last time he said it. He flicks his gaze up and down Roy. "Where's your munchkin?"

"Wally and his family are watching her. He was the only person I could get at such short notice."

Jason has to take a moment to process that, to place the name _Wally_ with the correct hero. "You called the Flash to come do babysitting duty." He eventually says, with some disbelief, "Doesn't he have kids of his own?"

"Yeah, twins." Roy looks surprised that Jason knows that. He shouldn't be, Jason may not have been as thorough on looking up the rest of the superhero community as he was the Bat pack, but he'd still checked in on all their close allies just in case. He'd needed to make sure there wouldn't be a danger of interference when he'd gone after Bruce and the Joker. "Real cute kids. Anyway, Lian's always happy to go with him, she loves when he takes her running."

It's still strange for Jason to think about. For as much as he was once, for a brief time, part of the larger than life world of super heroes, it's still bizarre to him that this could be the norm for anyone. He tries to remember if he ever met Wally West in person but nothing comes to mind; if he did it's one of those patches in his memory that he's been forced to resign himself to. Well at least he can still remember meeting Wonder Woman.

"You let him take her running?"

"Well, yeah," Roy says bemusedly, as if trusting your child to a supersonic speedster was an everyday occurrence. "He can't stay for long at my place, so the easiest solution is for him to take Lian for a sleepover at his house where his mate can look after her."

"Jesus." Jason - well, Jason wouldn't trust Wally West in the first place since he doesn't actually know the guy, but he definitely would never allow anyone to do that with Damian unless they were all in mortal peril. Not even Superman, whose autograph is still in the drawer of the desk in his old room upstairs (he checked). "Well, whatever. You got here, which means we can get going finally."

He stuffs his right hand in his pocket, jacket balanced over his left arm as he turns to walk back into the house. Roy immediately follows on his heels. "Where's Dick?"

"Refuelling the jet or some shit."

"How's your arm? You didn't write on the cast like I told you to."

Jason stops to stare at him. 

"What? It helps, logic says so."

"Lian's logic or yours?"

"... both?"

It's a little more than Jason can take right now and he growls, "Fuck off, Roy. If you're just here to pester me with stupid questions then I don't need your help."

Roy seems to realise he's crossed the line farther than Jason's willing to allow because his next question dials back the attempt at humour, replacing it with honest sincerity. "Sorry, but seriously, how are you holding up? Place been treating you all right?"

"You're supposed to ask if I've been behaving. After all, I'm the bad one here, right?"

"Speaking as the resident fuck up of his own family, I don't think you're so terrible, kid."

Jason shakes his head, though he files that titbit of information away for later. "That's because you don't actually know me, Harper. If you did you'd say different, just give it time." He freezes when Roy catches his elbow, tugging Jason to look down the inch of height difference between them for a moment. 

"Jason, come on."

He swallows, sighs and resists running his hand through his hair in a display of nerves. "I'm... fine. I just want to get this over with, I want to get him back."

Roy's face lights up in sympathy and God if Jason hasn't had enough of such looks these past few weeks, what with Dick the hovering worrywart in residence. "I know, Jay, but we're on the case. Damian will be back with you before you know it."

Back with him sure, but for how long? Luckily Jason is saved from having to respond to that by the sudden appearance of Alfred in the doorway. He hurries to pull his arm free of Roy's grip.

"Ah," Alfred says, "Mister Harper, it's good to see you again so soon." He comes forward to politely shake Roy's hand, as if they're strangers who are just meeting for the first time. Sometimes Alfred's old-British sensibilities go over the top. "Thank you for coming at such short notice."

"Happy to be here, Alfred." Roy answers, taking the butler's hand in a firm grip. He looks like he's fighting to keep a straight face. "Jaybird here been behaving for ya?

Alfred's lips twitch into what could almost be a smile, "Of course. Master Jason has been perfectly tolerable."

"And what about Dick?"

"Well that is another matter entirely."

"Hey!" Speak of the devil. Jason looks over at Dick, who's run up from the cave already dressed in his Nightwing gear, sans mask. As ever, it looks bizarre when one of them wears their uniform up in the manor, never mind daylight. "Still trying to get me in trouble, Roy?"

"Always."

They clasp arms and Jason starts to tap his foot impatiently as he watches the display. He's not trying to be dramatic, but the only thing he can focus on is Damian and how every second they linger is potentially a second longer of separation between them. The truth is if Roy hadn't got here when he did then Jason would probably have ended up trying to take off without him whether Dick was willing or not. He'd even have stolen the jet if he had to and risked the consequences of explaining it to Bruce once he got there.

"How's Lian?" Dick asks, as if this is just some pleasant social call and not the start of a rescue mission.

"Disappointed she couldn't come. It's getting harder to explain why I have to go away sometimes without her now that she's getting older." sighs Roy, reaching up to adjust the trucker cap on his head. This one has the name of a brand of beer on it that Jason only vaguely recognises. "I'm lucky I didn't mention your name or she might have actually kicked off."

Dick chuckles, "I promise I'll come see her soon. Or maybe you could bring her over here once things settle down."

"If the big, bad Bat boss wouldn't mind, sure, I can -"

Jason's had enough. His fraying temper snaps like a rope drawn too tight, stretched taut over endless weeks of waiting. "Great! You guys are friends, we get _it_. Now can we all stop with the pleasantries and get the hell out of here already? I'm done wasting time on meaningless crap. I'm going to get my damned kid back and anyone who's coming with me better be downstairs in five minutes or I swear I'm leaving you behind."

He turns and storms out of the room, heading for the study entrance to the cave and ends up shoving the door open with his foot as he struggles to get through and pull his jacket on all at the same time. It's a fruitless exercise, and Jason ends up swearing in front of the grandfather clock because he can't get his damned cast through the sleeve, which causes a hot wave of embarrassment to run through him over how even that minor difficulty has him feeling ready to cry. 

It's pathetic. Weak. But Damian is just a few hours flight away and he needs to get there _now_. Jason's so preoccupied by the thought that he doesn't realise he's no longer alone in the study.

"Allow me, sir." Hands catch at his jacket, and Jason turns round, red-faced, to see Alfred standing there. "Alf... I..."

"Arms out." Alfred says businesslike, but with a faint tone of disapproval lacing his words. He'd given Jason back his beloved jacket earlier that morning, all the damage to it from Deathstroke's swords repaired and the pockets refilled with batarangs and other gadgets; though he'd refused to return Jason his helmet and guns.

Turns out Alfred really doesn't approve of Jason putting explosives into something he wore over his head.

"I hope you understand, Master Jason," Alfred begins, as he helps thread Jason's left arm through the sleeve, "that none of us are taking this lightly, and we are all in fact as serious as we possibly can be regarding Damian's recovery. Indeed, I believe Master Bruce would have already attempted to rescue the lad himself, if not for your insistence that you be there at the time."

"Damian doesn't know Bruce," Jason mutters, "He doesn't know anyone but me, and even then..." he bites down on admitting his fear of being forgotten. "I need to be there for him."

"A fact I am not arguing, as much I wish you would remain here given your current state."

Jason hisses as he lifts his right arm, sliding it into his jacket. Alfred smooths the leather down over his shoulders before Jason finally looks at him. "Alf, I can't. I've been going crazy here as it is. If I stay, I..." He swallows, "I don't know if I can keep control of myself."

"You're referring to the effects of the Lazarus Pit?" Alfred asks him, eyes deathly serious.

He crooks a bitter smile, it's a convenient excuse for his own failings. "No miracle comes without a price, right?"

"If they did not there would be many more of them." Alfred puts his hand back on Jason's left shoulder, looking him straight in the eye. "You have always surpassed expectations, Jason, and you are far stronger than I think you give yourself credit for. To my understanding many would have been driven mad from even brief exposure to the Pit, yet here you are, still sane and ready to do the right thing."

"You really believe that, huh? That I'm-" _sane_ "- ready to do the right thing?" Jason can't help asking that question, considering all of his family's disapproval over his methods. "Even after everything I've done."

"I do." Alfred squeezes his shoulder, fingers always surprisingly strong, "So I will refrain from asking you to stay behind once more, Jason, and instead ask that you make sure to come home again when all is said and done."

Jason freezes. "I'm not going to run away, Alfred."

"See that you don't." The old man smiles sadly, like he can see straight through him. "I'm quite looking forward to meeting young Damian when you return."

"Sure," Jason manages, hoping he doesn't look as guilty as he feels. "You will." He hesitates, then steps forwards and presses his head against Alfred's shoulder for a moment, getting one last deep intake of that tea and lemon smell. "I gotta..."

Alfred nods, gently patting his back before releasing Jason from his grip. "Go down to the cave, I shall inform the others to hurry up and join you."

Jason fairly flees down the steps after that.

 

*

 

The flight is mercifully quick. Jason's not sure just how fast the jet can fly now, but it's clear to him that Bruce must have upgraded the old bird at least half a dozen times since the last time Jason flew in her, which was over four years ago.

He spends the entire ride cooped up in the rear of the plane, letting Dick and Roy handle the piloting while he broods over what's to come. His moods swing wildly back and forth, jumping between alternate levels of fear and anger, desperate love and vengeful fury, all depending on whether he's thinking more about Damian or Talia at the time.

He doesn't even realise they've landed until Dick crouches before him, his fingers gentle as they brush over the back of Jason's hand. "Hey," he prompts softly, "You okay?"

Jason's head shoots up, a growl sounding in the back of his throat before he can catch himself. Dick's eyes widen, and Harper recoils involuntarily in shock. _Shit_ , but he didn't meant to do that.

"I'm fine!" Jason snaps quickly, flushing hotly as he pulls his hand away from Dick and uses it to scrub over his face, as if he can ever wash away the stain of his own weakness so easily. "I'm fine. Let's just - just _move_."

Jason surges to his feet and shoves his way through the pair of them to the door, hitting the release before Dick can begin to raise a word in protest. He doesn't hesitate to hurry down the ramp, jumping the last few feet, and finds himself blinking at the sudden warmth of late afternoon sunlight on his face. Jason hadn't expected to find himself surrounded by so much green when they touched down. 

"You sure this is the place?" He can't help asking, looking suspiciously back behind him. The leaves of the tree's ringing the clearing rustle against the light breeze, the sound accompanied by the cheerful twitter of bird song. Beyond the top of the wood Jason can see tall hills, and there's a salty edge to the air that makes him think they must be near the coast.

"I'm sure." Answers a deep voice, one that very much does not belong to Nightwing or Arsenal.

Jason jumps and turns, furious at being caught out again by his own carelessness as Batman emerges from the shadow of the trees, looking painfully out of place in broad daylight. There's no way Bruce missed that. A second later Robin emerges behind Bruce as a black and red shadow, and Jason has to bite down on his instinctive reaction to seeing his replacement in person for the second time, wearing the colours that by all rights should still belong to him. 

"B." he replies flatly, grateful that he'd already applied his domino mask. "Where the fuck are we?"

"In the province of Herceg Novi, six miles out from the town of Luštica. Talia has a manor house in the hills near here. She's there now and we believe she has Damian with her."

Jason's breath catches even though he already knew the last part, and he feels more than sees Dick and Roy come up behind him, standing at either side. They're flanking him, and somehow he manages to read it as the supportive gesture it's meant to be rather than a threat.

"Just a manor house?" Dick says thoughtfully, as he finishes applying his own mask. "It can't be that easy."

"It's not." Jason's replacement speaks up. His feet shift, and there's a tilt to his head that says he's trying deliberately not to stare at Jason. Jason bares his teeth at Robin until he feels Dick elbow him in the side. "There's an extensive underground base beneath the main building, as well as a helicopter launch bay concealed under the gardens."

That's not good news. "Then we need to take that out first." Jason growls, shooting a glare at his elder brother. "Block her escape route."

"I can handle that." Says Harper casually, fiddling with the string on his bow. "No problem."

Bruce looks at the archer for a moment, before giving a single tiny nod of acknowledgement. Jason wonders if he even knew Dick was bringing Roy along on this venture, or if he's just covering his surprise because God forbid the Batman not appear omniscient in every single little detail.

Jason knows for a fact that he isn't, because the last time he and Bruce were facing each other in costume like this Jason had delivered him a damn big surprise, even if it all ended up burning down around him. Damn, but if he doesn't need to be thinking about that right now on top of everything else. The final resolution of his and Bruce's conflict needs to wait for another day, even though that simmering resentment still boils under the surface of his skin at every turn.

"Great." Dick says with forced cheer. It's not a sentiment shared by the rest of their small circle. "So what's the rest of the plan, B?"

"While Arsenal takes out the helicopter you and I will be going in to deal with Talia. At the first sign of attack she'll likely try to have the boy moved down to the sub levels where she'll believe he'll be more secure, so ideally we'll avoid detection by any parties until Red Hood and Robin already have Damian safely in hand." 

"Now wait a minute," Jason begins, at the same moment as Dick starts to say, "B -" but Jason talks over him. "You want to send this kid down with me to get Damian back?!"

"I could go with Jas -"

" _No._ Robin is more than capable." Batman doesn't exactly set his shoulders or even move noticeably to emphasise his command, it's just part of who he is that when he talks people listen, and right now he's projecting a whole lot of disapproval for what Jason's saying. "In stealth, speed and knowledge of the League, he's the best choice to accompany you."

"He's a kid!"

"I'm three years younger than you." His replacement finally speaks up for himself, lips pursed in obvious displeasure. Jason's wonders what Drake's thinking now, if the reality of meeting him is all he hoped it would be. Like he cares, this kid robbed Jason of the second-best thing he'd ever had in his whole miserable life. "And I can handle it. I want to help."

It's the wrong time for this, but Jason can't help himself. "Well whoop-de-fucking-doo! Maybe I don't want your help, _replacement_ , ever think of that? Maybe you should -"

Jason expects Dick or Bruce to be the one's to step in but Harper gets there first, swinging himself round into Jason's field of vision with a sharp look on his face. "Are you fucking serious right now?" He hisses, grabbing Jason's arm and refusing to let go even when the younger omega tenses up, spoiling for a fight. "Are you actually arguing this? We're going to get your kid back, man, and you're complaining because Tim here wants to help you?"

"Fuck you, Harper!" Jason snaps, trying to pull away.

"No, fuck _you_." Roy leans up into his face, talking low so only Dick - who's stood right next to them - has a chance of overhearing, "You need to get over it, at least for today, alright? Hold the bullshit until you've got your son back, then you can have all the family arguments you want, I don't care. But there's a kid at stake right now, your kid, and I know you're smarter than this, Jason. Come on, you're angry and you're stressed out, but you're not stupid."

By some miracle Jason doesn't punch him on reflex, he supposes that might count as progress on his anger management issues.

_... then you become an idiot..._

He closes his eyes behind the protective shielding of his domino's lenses at the echo of Egon's words, breathes in and out, once, twice, until he feels himself relax minutely. It's enough to go on.

"Fine..." he mutters, "Fine. Whatever."

Roy lets go of him and steps back, while Dick folds his arms beside him in a silent rebuke, but all Jason himself can focus on is the weight of Batman's disapproving stare. He knows he's disappointed Bruce again already, but what's one more sin atop the pile? "So," Jason says in an effort to move on, "when are we doing this?"

"Tonight." If Bruce clenches his jaw any tighter Jason thinks he'll break his teeth. "We'll hike up as soon as it gets dark, then you and Robin will make your way inside the complex, after which Nightwing, myself and Arsenal will play our parts."

"What if Talia isn't where you expect her to be? What if she doesn't play it the way you want her to? What if she has some escape route you don't know about?"

Bruce grimaces visibly, "We've observed her routine the past two days, she'll be down in the base. And I know Talia," The way Jason hadn't, the way Jason _should've_ before he let her fuck him, goes unsaid. "She won't be able to resist facing me. Not after what happened with Ra's." A chill runs through Jason as his erstwhile mentor looks directly at him. "Not after what happened with you."

The hot heavy feeling that pounded in his head and chest when Bruce held him through his first night back in the manor threatens to rise again, but Jason ruthlessly squashes it back down. After today things will go one way or the other, there's no point in letting sentiment get the better of him.

"Well that's sweet, B, but let's stay objective here." Jason lets the sarcasm twist his words naturally, he doesn't even have to try. "This is about one thing and one thing only."

Bruce keeps watching him for a long moment, his gaze an unreadable weight through the cowl, and Jason looks back at him, head lifted and muscles thrumming with the need to act.

"You're right." He says finally, "It is." He turns away from Jason, "Sunset is in two hours. You should all use that time to study what we've been able to discover of the layout of the compound and check your equipment. There'll be no mistakes on this one."

Jason couldn't have put that better himself.

 

*

 

"This isn't a good idea. I should go with Jason." Dick says two hours later, when they're trudging through the dark up to the manor house. He and Bruce are bringing up the rear, while Roy takes point and Jason tries to keep as much distance between himself and Tim as possible, all the while aiming to look like he's not doing just that. It'd almost be cute, were it over something more petty and the situation not so dire.

Beside him Batman grunts. "I need you with me to keep Talia's attention off of him."

"Tim -" Dick rolls his eyes when Bruce shoots him a look noticeable even through the cowl. They may be in the middle of the woods, about to go take down someone who already knows their identities but sure, gotta stick to the codenames while in costume. "Okay _Robin_ , he could handle that. And it's not that I don't think he can handle Jason either, on a normal day, but right now Jay's hanging by a thread, if he were to snap -"

"You think he will?"

"Will what?" Asks Dick, playing dumb.

" _Snap._ " Batman prompts, eyes focused on the two teenagers in front of them. By now Roy's ranged too far ahead to be in sight through the gloom.

Dick draws in a sharp breath, considering his answer very carefully. "Not if we get Damian back, but if we don't?" He swallows. "Yeah, it's a possibility."

He doesn't want to think it of Jason, but he wasn't lying when he said Jason was on his last nerve. He'd put his faith in them, fought back his impatience and anger to let Bruce take over his mission these last few weeks, and Dick doesn't want to think about what would happen were he to be disappointed one more time. Cassandra had said Jason needed Damian back and she was right, he did. He needed him back for a whole multitude of reasons, and one of those was that Damian gave Jason hope and purpose past his self-destructive desire for revenge.

"We're getting the boy back." It's the voice that brooks no arguments, the voice of Batman the leader, the only man who can keep the entire Justice League under his sway through nothing more than a scowl. It's almost a growl, and never has Dick heard Bruce use that tone on any mission that ended in failure. "It ends tonight."

"Yeah," He hastens to say, "I know, I'm just saying I really think it would be better if I went with Jason. Or Roy even."

"We stick to the plan." Batman replies firmly. Behind the cowl Dick knows Bruce is observing him, and he has to bite down a retort, reminding himself to pick his battles. He really wishes Bruce had clued him in on the planning stages earlier. "Yeah, sure." He says finally, then frowns as Bruce keeps looking at him. "What?"

"Nothing." Bruce keeps walking and Dick waits, counting the seconds in his head until he inevitably speaks again, "You and Jason seem to be on better terms."

Dick shrugs, inwardly thinking _why now_ before deciding he probably invited it, what with his insistence that he'd be the best person to partner up with Jason for the mission. "Yeah. I wouldn't say he trusts me yet, but I think I got to know him a little better while we were waiting for you to get back to us."

He hopes Bruce isn't about to ask him for a full report on Jason's current mental state, considering they're about five minutes walk from their goal, though he can understand why he'd want to.

"That's... good. It's good." Bruce says a moment later, and it's only because Dick's known and worked with him as long as he has that he can read the tension in his shoulders. When the benefit of scent is taken away all they have to go on is body language; it's an advantage that they're so skilled in it when most other humans are crippled by their reliance on scent as an aid in reading emotion. "I'm glad."

"Bruce, are you -"

"Come on." Comes the brusque reply, "We're almost there."

Batman picks up the pace and Dick has to break into a trot to keep up with him on the ground. Typical Bat avoidance he thinks, before he's distracted two minutes later by them cresting the top of the rise Talia's manor house is hidden behind. Roy is already there waiting for them, crouched in the shadows of the tree's and using a pair of night-vision binoculars to peer closer at the compound.

"Hey guys, glad you could make it." The archer says cheerfully. "Gotta tell ya, it's looking all quiet on the western front."

"We're facing east." Tim remarks dryly, and Roy flaps his hand in his direction.

"Details, details."

Dick watches Jason walk over and snatch the binoculars from Roy's hand without a care for any protests raised. He's the only one of them that Dick can smell, since Jason had refused to wear neutraliser for a good reason; namely that he might need Damian to smell him to recognise him at this point. Bruce hadn't liked it, but he hadn't been able tell Jason he was wrong for doing so either.

He moves up to stand behind Roy and Jason, brushing up against Tim on his left side in what he hopes is a comforting motion as he looks down at the view. The manor sits like a fat white jewel in the middle of a sea of greenery, a more modern looking construction than Dick was expecting given his past experience with League hideouts. 

"You ready for this, baby bird?" He whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't want to fuss, doesn't want to worry, but Tim is as much his brother as Jason is (arguably more so, as much as he wouldn't want to admit it, since he'd been able to spend time with Tim in a way he'd never gotten to with Jason) and he doesn't want either of them to hate the other. After this is all over Dick plans on getting the two together in a room and forcing Jason to at least hear what Tim has to say, rather than outright dismissing him over the inaccurate and childish notion that Tim had stolen what was his.

Tim is a like a statue next to him. His expression gives away nothing, and Dick hates that he's started to master that stoic look more and more with every case he works on. "I can handle it, Nightwing. Stop worrying so much."

Dick opens his mouth to say more, to try and assure Tim of his confidence in him, but then Batman speaks up and he knows the chance is over.

"Arsenal, Red Hood and Robin; Nightwing and I will be giving you a fifteen minute headstart on your objectives." They all turn to look at him - except for Jason, who keeps watching the compound. This obviously irks Bruce, but he carries on with his briefing regardless. "Arsenal, get into position to take out the helicopter, but hold on actually disabling it until you get a signal from us or have no other choice. The longer Talia is unaware that her escape route has been cut off, the better."

"If by disable you mean blow up, then sure thing, Batman." Roy grins.

Bruce carries on as if he didn't hear that. "Robin, Red Hood, you know what you have to do. Signal the rest of us as soon as you're clear of the compound with the boy. Until then we maintain radio silence unless absolutely necessary, clear?"

"Clear." Tim says at once, echoed a beat later by the rest of them except, again, for Jason. Dick thinks that's concerning, a sentiment which Bruce seems to echo.

"Hood." Batman growls, stepping forward with a sweep of his black cape to his second son.

Jason's shoulders twitch, before he looks back over his shoulder, eyes invisible behind his mask but expression clearly twisted into a frown. "I heard you, B. Alright?" he snaps, "We've already gone over this, so can we just get on with it already?"

"Jason, if you're not okay to do this -"

Jason lets out a rough bark of laughter, quiet enough that the sound doesn't carry, but unnerving nonetheless. "Seriously, Bruce? Out of everyone here you're asking me that? I've been ready for God damn _months_. Damian is my kid, _mine_. Of course I'm fucking ready."

There's no immediate response, no vocal one anyway. The way Bruce's gaze tracks over the places Jason was injured before speaks volumes all on its own. 

His brother hears that unspoken message clearly and his shoulders curl in on themselves. "I'm fine, B." Jason insists, now looking wary and defensive. Dick reflects that he's probably afraid Bruce will suddenly change his mind and make him wait out here for the rest of them, but as usual Jason's covering it with anger. 

He'd always been so afraid of being found unworthy, of being protected from what he believed himself capable of facing, of being found _wanting_ for so many different reasons, whether it be his gender, background or combat skills. Jason's insecurities as a boy had never really gone away, he'd only learned how to hide them better.

"Stick with Tim." Dick hears Bruce says, "Let him take the brunt of any resistance you encounter, and Jason..."

There's this moment where Dick prays, hopes, that Bruce isn't about to say the wrong thing. That he isn't about to remind Jason that killing is unacceptable, or to stick to the plan, or a hundred other small things that would reopen Jason's wounds rather than move towards healing them. In other words, that he's going to say something as Batman would, rather than as Bruce Wayne the alpha and father.

It's very clear in Dick's mind which Jason needs more.

"Yeah, B?" Jason prompts when Bruce doesn't immediately continue. His good hand is holding the binoculars very tightly.

"Be careful."

Shock ripples across Jason's features for a moment, and Dick feels like an intruder on what should have been a private moment. He shifts uncomfortably as Bruce and Jason continue to look at each other, debates if he should say or do something, and shoots a look Tim and Roy's way to see if they're in the same boat.

"Well er," Roy finally says when the silence has stretched on a beat too long, and Dick will forever be grateful to him for being the one to break it. "I'm going to go get in position. I'll see you guys on the other side." He turns to start his circuit towards the gardens and the hidden helicopter launch bay, though not without tossing Jason a last salute and message of support. "Go get 'im, Jaybird."

It breaks Jason out of his spell and he nods back before turning to look at Tim. "Yeah, right. Well, come on then, replacement."

"Robin." Tim corrects sharply, eyes glowering at Jason's back.

"Whatever, just come on."

Dick turns to look at Bruce as the two slip away into the shadows, raising his eyebrows above his mask.

He still doesn't feel good about this.

 

*

 

Ten minutes later Jason is following Robin, Drake, through the outside opening to the cellar of the house. It's separate from the underground base that apparently exists further down, bypassed by an elevator and as such thought to be largely unused except for food deliveries.

The musty smell in the air certainly attests to that.

Jason trails his hand over some dusty bottles of wine, thinks of making a joke about Talia's terrible taste in alcohol, then realises that he really doesn't have the heart for it. Some situations just don't bear joking about, not with Damian so close that Jason can almost smell him already. He'll even ignore the fact that he's being forced to work with one of the last people he'd ever want to.

Jason's feelings regarding Tim Drake are complicated to say the least.

"Can you move any faster?" He hisses, as Robin spends a few seconds too long listening at the door out of the cellar for his taste.

"Do you want to get caught?" Robin fires back without missing a beat, before finally nodding and twisting the door handle open.

Jason glares at his back as they slip up into the unoccupied kitchen. The lights are off and Jason squints round, looking for some sign that a child lives here. Damian would have largely outgrown baby food and formula by now, yet there still could be something to give away his presence. Batman had said that his son is here for certain, but until Jason lays eyes on him himself he'll take that with a grain of salt. He's spent too long being disappointed in his own search to take anything for granted now.

There's nothing, not even a high chair.

Together they creep out into the hall and Jason watches, impatient, as Robin checks the display on his gauntlet before pointing down the hall. "This way," he whispers, "Then up the stairs. We think his room's near the end."

"You _think_."

"Sorry, we couldn't exactly perform a more thorough investigation while we were waiting for you." The thing is Robin actually does sound sorry as much as he is annoyed, but Jason still threatens to see red. He doesn't want to be stuck here with this kid, unarmed except for a few batarangs and smoke pellets, with one arm in a cast and a shoulder that still gets sore with any excessive movement.

He wishes he had a gun. He'd even pull off solely knee and foot shots if that would pacify Bruce into letting him use one, but of course he doesn't trust Jason so that'll never happen.

"Sorry if I want you to be God damned sure when we're on a mission to rescue my kid, _Robin_." Jason twists the title round in his mouth on purpose, but oddly doesn't feel proud when he sees Drake flinch minutely.

"Listen," Robin says finally, "I get that you don't like me. That you think I took Robin away from you, but right now I'm here to help. After this you can tell me whatever you think of me and I'll listen, so long as you promise to hear whatever I have to say in return, okay? But for now we need to work together."

Jason feels his patience threatening to break again. He can't help but think what if he just grabbed that stupid bo-staff off this kid, whacked him over his skull and then hightailed it up the stairs on his own. It sounds fine, reasonable even for about a second, right before logic slams its way into his skull and reminds him how damn stupid that would be in a voice that sounds eerily like Roy Harper's. Right, he needs to get a grip.

"Someone's got their big boy pants on today." He still can't resist sniping, before forcing himself to say, "But sure, yeah. Okay."

Then two guards walk around the corner of the hall ahead and get in the way of whatever else they may have to say to each other.

Robin moves like lightning. He's already halfway up the hall, staff snapped out, by the time the two men register their presence. They go for their swords but Drake's already there, slamming the end of his bo-staff under one's chin and knocking him out instantly, while he uses his foot to kick the radio out of the second assassin's hand.

With reluctant admiration for this move Jason takes the chance to whip out a batarang, and he's proud to say that even after being years out of practise with the things his aim is dead on, clocking the guy in the face before he has a chance to yell for back up. Robin finishes him off with a punch a second later and damn if that doesn't actually feel good for a moment. "League's finest, huh?"

"Help me hide them." Robin jerks his head towards what looks like a broom closet and Jason nods. Between the two of them they manage to get the guys stowed away before hurrying up the stairs. They're running out of time before Batman and Nightwing make their move.

When they get to the upstairs landing Jason actually stumbles because, _oh_ , oh he knows that smell. A little more mature, less milky but still distinctly _Damian_. "Dami..." he finds himself saying as he straightens up, starting to move with strong sure steps. He cannot call out, he absolutely cannot, but he damn well wants to.

By the time he reaches the door to what seems to be the nursery he's broken into a run, his longer legs carrying him ahead of Robin. There's nothing special about the door at first glance, it's just plain wood, and Jason doesn't hesitate to grasp the handle, twisting it open before Tim can stop him.

Margrete looks over at him from where she's folding away baby clothes. Magrete and no one else.

Jason really does see red this time. 

" _You_!" He snarls, lunging forwards at the same time as she drops the clothes she's holding and whips out a knife from her belt. Robin tries to grab Jason's jacket to stop him but he's too slow.

There's no grace to the way Jason slams into Magrete, he's operating purely on instinct, too blinded by rage to think through what he's doing. He catches her wrist with his right hand and shoves the heavy weight of his cast against her throat as they hit the floor together, turning her warning shout into a cut-off gurgle. 

"Jason!" Robin's hands pull at his shoulders but Jason won't be moved, he stares down at Margrete with bared teeth. She looks much the same as she did the last time he saw her, greying hair drawn back in a practical bun and dark eyes still sharp in her wrinkled face. It's the face of a woman he trusted for a time, long enough to let her be near him at his most vulnerable, and to let her be near his infant son.

Trusting is always his first mistake.

"Where is he?!" Jason snarls, squeezing her wrist in a painfully tight grip to make her drop the knife. "Where's my son, where's Damian?!"

"I... won't..."

"Hood, you're suffocating her, you need to -"

"Shut up!" He growls over his shoulder at Robin, before looking back at his target. "I know Damian's here somewhere, I can smell him. You helped Talia take him away from me and now you've got about five seconds to tell me where to find him before I crush your throat."

Magrete wheezes under the pressure of his arm against her throat, yet she still manages to glare at him. After a few moments, when her face starts to purple, Jason reluctantly eases up enough to let her talk. She coughs, spittle flying out of her mouth and against his jaw. "My... mistress..." 

"He's with Talia?" Jason's gaze darkens. _Fuck_. "Where?"

Her words slur, voice thickened by the lack of oxygen to her brain. "I won't... you can't have him. Won't succeed."

"And you won't survive if you don't start being more helpful." He uses his greater weight to push Margrete harder against the floor, squeezing her wrist tightly enough that the bones grind together. Jason has an intimate knowledge of just how painful that can be. "Where. Is. He?"

She cries out and he can see Robin tensing up out of the corner of his vision, grip tight on his bo-staff. Looks like baby bird isn't so comfortable with more extreme methods of getting information. Well, it wasn't like Bruce never broke bones to get answers. 

Finally Magrete manages to spit out another word, "Below!"

"She took him down to the underground base." Robin says needlessly, as if Jason can't figure that out himself. "Damn it."

"Yeah," Jason mutters, "Damn it." A coincidence? Or had Talia somehow anticipated their arrival? He finds he doesn't particularly care as he pushes his cast back down against Margrete's throat.

Her eyes bulge and her struggles to throw him off grow wilder. Next to Jason Robin startles and then tries to pull his arm back. "Let her go!"

"Fuck no!" Jason snaps, "You know who this bitch is, rich boy? She was the God damned midwife! She was basically Damian's nanny and I thought I could trust her, then she helps Talia kidnap him and never says a word to me! She doesn't deserve to get out of this."

"We don't kill, Hood!"

"You don't kill," He hisses back, "I _do_."

Robin let's go of his arm, and the next thing Jason feels is the cold metal of the bo-staff pressed against his temple. Drake's voice is suddenly steadier, "Let her go."

"No."

"Let her go, _now._ If you don't I'll knock you out." Jason looks sharply up at the kid, trying to gauge how serious he is in his pointed little face. Pretty damn serious by the looks of it. 

He growls, "You wouldn't." Jason needs to go down there, he needs to be the one who finds Damian and brings him back home, away from Talia. His son needs his mother, not a whole group of strangers who would only distress him with their presence.

"I would." Drake swallows, "Even though I don't want to. And then I'd have to tell Batman what happened, so let her go."

It's that last threat that finally gets through the haze of anger in Jason's head. His eyes widen, then narrow. If Robin went ahead and told Batman about this then it meant he might as well kiss Damian goodbye now, Jason is very aware that how well he might come out of this depends on his perceived good behaviour to the big man. "You little shit." Jason glares through his mask, though Drake's expression remains impassive. " _Fine._ "

He pushes down extra hard for a moment, then finally pulls his cast away from Margrete's throat. She's damn near passed out by this point, so it doesn't take much to knock her out the rest of the way by slamming her head back against the floorboards. Jason doesn't feel satisfied afterwards though, just empty.

Drake heaves a sigh of relief and takes his staff away from Jason's throat. "Thank you, Jason. I thought -"

"I didn't do it for you." Jason replies, fighting off a sudden wave of nausea. There's still a long way to go. "There's an elevator down to the base in the house right? I need to get down there now, before Bats and Nightwing do. Damian -"

Just as he says that the air fills with the sudden, shrill sound of an alarm going off. "... aw hell."

"We need to hurry," Robin offers him a hand up but Jason brushes it off, climbing back up to his feet under his own power. "before they cut off the elevator."

"Way ahead of you." He stops to cast a last look at Margrete, then around at the nursery. It's not what he expects, and a far cry from his and Damian's bedroom back at the Canadian chalet. 

Everything is so bare. Depressing. There's hardly any toys that Jason can see, and none of those that are here are the soft fluffy things he remembered Damian loving before he left for Gotham. In fact, nothing here looks like it came from the old house, and that's a worrying message if Jason has ever seen one. Just what has Talia been up to with his son?

"Hood, we've got company coming." Robin looks back at him from the doorway.

Jason closes his eyes for a pained moment behind his mask, before opening them again and nodding, "Let's go."

 

*

 

Batman and Nightwing had managed to make it pretty far without running into significant trouble as they infiltrated the lower levels.

They'd entered by a second hidden route, different from the cellar which Red Hood and Robin had used to gain access to the house. It was some kind of secret access tunnel, meant for the League's soldiers to enter and leave though without them having to tramp through the house. Together they'd easily been able to disable the security and make their way inside.

"You sure she'll be down here, B?" Dick asks as they round another corner. They've taken down a few patrolling guards so far but nothing major. However they're running on limited time before those unconscious bodies are discovered by other League members and the alarms go off.

Bruce grunts noncommittally. Privately he's sure, but it's not in a way he can adequately put across in words to Dick. It's a gut feeling, which isn't something he usually likes to go off. It'd be preferable to call it an estimated guess based off his prior relationship with Talia. "I know her."

"You've said that," Dick frowns, "I'm just not sure how true it is anymore." 

They come out above some sort of training area, where two dozen ninja's are running through combat drills. The upper level is meant for observation, but right now Batman and Nightwing are the only occupants. Dick flashes a quick, questioning smile Bruce's way but he shakes his head. They're not looking to start a fight just yet.

They skirt around the edges of the upper railing. Dick, the lighter out of the two of them, runs ahead to check the next door. "This would go quicker if we asked someone for directions," He says, when Bruce catches up to him, "Place looks like it runs pretty deep."

"I was thinking the same thing."

They move into the next room, then down some steps to a corridor that starts with a gentle slope and then quickly turns steeper. The brickwork here is old, far older than that of the manor house above and Bruce doesn't like what that implies. A more entrenched League base is likely to have nasty surprises hidden within it, yet at the same time old thick walls like these are difficult to build new technology into without risking the structural integrity. So far he has yet to see many security camera's.

Talia must really have felt like this place was unknown to any outsiders.

Eventually they come to another doorway, this one made of old oak bolstered with iron. Bruce pauses and listens, fine turning the audio receptors in his cowl to pick up sound from the other side. He taps Dick's shoulder and holds up five fingers to let him know how many opponents are waiting for them on the other side. Dick nods his acknowledgment, and together they fall into an old familiar position without any need for further communication: Nightwing next to the door while Batman braces to smash it open.

The men on the other side recover from their surprise quickly, which is impressive. One immediately dives for a radio while the other four converge on Batman. A second later and Nightwing leaps into the fray, gracefully somersaulting over Batman's head to go for the one assassin who had the forethought to alert the rest of the base rather than just face the intruder.

Bruce is a little too occupied to see exactly what happens there, as he grabs the hand of one man, twisting it and slamming the hilt of his sword into the face of another, but he hears the telltale crackle of electricity from Dick's escrima before there's a yell and a thud that can't be attributed to any of his own actions. The man he hits with the sword hilt goes down, blood streaming thickly from his nose, and Batman grimly holds onto the weapon as he slams his foot into the knee of a third to stop him from throwing a shuriken into Nightwing's back.

The ninja fall to his knees and Nightwing pivots, spinning into a roundhouse kick that knocks him unconscious. That leaves the man Batman is currently wrestling plus one other; he doesn't worry about the last, leaving him to Dick as Bruce slams his first opponent up into the wall and breaks his grip on the sword. He then spins the ninja round and twists his arm up against his back before growling out, " _Talk._ "

"Never!" The ninja spits, hissing as Batman bends his arm further. Another thud signals Dick's done with the final League member, and he hears his first protege pipe up in a purposefully jovial tone, "Well that's not a good attitude to have after we came all this way, right Batman?"

"Talia al Ghul, where is she?" The room they're in looks like what should be a small antechamber, yet there's no visible exit and only a rickety old set of table and chairs to occupy it. A dead end? No, that doesn't seem likely. There would be no reason to dig this far down into the earth unless there was something else here. 

"I will not betray my mistress." Batman watches his captive's face carefully, tracking every bead of sweat that runs down his temple and the telltale flick of his eyes to a certain section of wall. His heartbeat quickens when he notice's Batman following his gaze. "No!"

"Nightwing." Bruce jerks his head towards the wall, and Dick fires off a lazy salute as he walks over to start investigating it. Blue and black fingers feel around the brickwork and the ninja in Batman's grip swears in Arabic and struggles harder.

"You cannot -!"

"What's behind the wall?" He pulls the unfortunate man back and then slams him back up against the rough surface, "Tell me! Or I'll break every bone in your body."

"He'll do it too." Dick puts in distractedly, blue-black fingers pressing against various bricks.

"I cannot! It is sacrilege! Only the highest may go within!"

He really doesn't like the sound of that. "Is Talia there now?"

"Please!"

"Er, Batman?" He shoots a look to Nightwing, who pushes against two separate bricks before hurriedly stepping back. The revealed door slides open with a stiff groaning sound. 

Bruce's suspicions are confirmed as a poisonous green light ebbs up the revealed staircase and into the chamber.

Quickly he knocks out the guard and moves to join Dick in the doorway. Whether Talia is down there or not a Lazarus Pit is something to be concerned about. They'll need to make sure to bury it before they leave.

"Tell me we don't have to go down there." Dick sighs, the light giving his warm skin a sickly tint. He looks like he'd give everything for Bruce to say no, but also resigned to what his answer will be.

Before Bruce gets the chance to confirm that suspicion a distant alarm sounds. They cast a look at each other and then Bruce sweeps forward without hesitation, "Nightwing, move!"

"Right behind you, B!"

There's no telling if it's their handiwork that was discovered or if it's a slip-up on the part of Arsenal or the other team, either way they don't have time to waste, not if they want to succeed in what they came here for.

 

*

 

"Can you go any faster?" Jason hisses at Drake, shifting uneasily as he waits for the younger boy to finish hacking the elevator. They'd just finished taking out one squad of minions, but more were on the way.

"I'd be able to do it faster without you yelling at me." Robin replies resentfully, and Jason has to resist the urge to slam his head forwards into the wall. "Batman and Nightwing are down there, we should radio them to let them know the situation."

"And get told to wait up here while they do all the hard work? Give me a break." His eyes track across the blood streaked floor to one of the bodies. Despite Jason's opinions on all the men and women here being a bunch of murderous assassin's they're still breathing. "Just get us down there."

There's a click and Drake makes a triumphant sound as the doors to the elevator slide open. "Got it!" He looks back at Jason and makes a beckoning gesture as the sound of more running feet echo down the hallway. "Come on!"

"Right behind you," Jason affirms, but doesn't immediately follow. He waits until Drake has his back turned to him again before snatching up a fallen gun from the floor and sliding it into the waistband of his jeans under his jacket, all in one fluid movement. If there's a chance he'll be facing Talia down there then damn it, he'll be prepared.

The kid shows no signs of being aware of what Jason's done as he steps inside the elevator. Instead he just hits the button to head downwards and Jason leans back against one of the walls, gritting his teeth against the pain from his newly strained muscles. He feels like someone attached thirty-pound weights to his arms.

"Hey, are you okay?" Drake asks him, lips pursed thinly as his gaze parses over Jason's arm and shoulder. Jason shakes his head.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Look, you don't need to pretend. If your wounds are hurting you that badly say so."

"I said I'm fine!" The still healing bones of his left wrist ache, but it's his right shoulder that's the main problem. The surface wound had closed and was mostly healed over, the deeper damage was taking longer though. Jason knows that if he's not careful he could end up tearing the muscle. "Just do your damn job, replacement."

Drake lets out another of his long-suffering sighs. "Believe me, I'm trying to."

 

*

 

Dick holds his breath as they reach the bottom of the stairs.

He's grateful beyond measure that they hadn't brought Jason down here with them, that he and Tim had taken what should be the relatively safer job upstairs - providing all went well. The Pit has left enough of a stain on Jason as it is, and Dick doesn't want to know what it would do to him to confront a reminder of his experience in person.

Still, it's killing him to maintain the radio silence that Bruce had ordered and he's thinking about going ahead and breaking it anyway just to make sure his younger brothers are safe. They were supposed to let them know as soon as they'd escaped with Damian, and the fact that they have yet to do that makes him worry.

"B."

"Quiet." Bruce says gruffly. He's almost too broad to move through the narrow stone tunnel they find themselves in. It looks roughly hewn, like someone took a pickaxe to it and then never bothered to smooth out the edges. The green light ahead is growing stronger and stronger.

Dick clenches his jaw, "Look, I think we should contact Jay and Robin. It's been too long, they should have gotten Damian out by now. Talia's goons already know we're here, so it won't be like... what is it?"

He trails off when Bruce stops suddenly, right at the exit of the tunnel into the natural cave beyond. The sudden stiffness in his body is all wrong, and Dick crowds closer to try and get a look in over his shoulder.

"Oh, great."

Talia is here all right. She cuts a powerful and striking figure against the green backdrop of the Lazarus Pit, reminding Dick of just why she can be someone to fear in the same way her father was. But it's not that which holds his and Bruce's attention.

In one hand Talia holds a communicator, confirming that she must have already been informed of their intrusion into her base. In the other she holds a small child, a boy of under two years dozing against her breast. Now he knows why Tim and Jason have yet to contact them.

"Beloved." Talia hooks the communicator back onto her belt and in its place withdraws a small pistol. "Welcome. It's good to see you again."

"Talia," Bruce says flatly, moving further into the cave with Dick at his heels. "I wish I could say the same."

Dick can't help looking at the boy while they talk. He's small and dark-haired, everything Jason said he was right down to the nose. Dick can't see his eyes, but he's sure that if he could they'd be the exact same shade of green that Jason had described to him before. He's also completely oblivious to what's going on around him as he sleeps in his sire's arms.

"I see Jason has manipulated you into joining his cause to steal my son."

"Steal your - you stole him from Jason!" Dick bursts out incredulously, appalled at the sheer gall of her. He'd never liked Talia, but this took it to new levels. "You took him without Jason's consent!" 

"He is my blood as well." She replies to him coolly, expression filled with a similar look of loathing. "I did what is best for Damian."

"Parental abduction is still kidnapping, Talia." Bruce growls lowly, in warning. "Give the boy back now and we can talk about this."

Talia bares her teeth right back at him, the two alpha's sizing each other up. Strategically speaking she has the advantage over them and she knows it, they can't risk attacking her without potentially putting Damian in danger, especially with Talia standing right in front of the Pit. Dick's seen the effects the those waters can have on a grown man (or teenager), he really doesn't want to think about what they would do to a toddler.

"Talk you say, what do I have to talk about? Damian is my son, he is an al Ghul and his destiny is with me. That is the end of it. I offered Jason a place by my side, a chance to raise Damian together as the future leader of the League of Assassin's and he refused, so I simply did what is necessary."

Dick steps forwards, stopped only by Bruce's hand impacting his chest. He's practically vibrating with rage, "That is bullshit and you know it."

Somehow Bruce manages to sound more diplomatic, but Dick is sure underneath that practised stoicism he's just as angry as Dick is. "I thought you were better than this, Talia. With Ra's gone you had a chance, a real chance to escape from all he did to you and do something good with your life."

"I am doing something good with my life." Talia says flatly, "I am making the League something better, something far stronger than my fathers vision for it. Something worthy of my son." Her expression softens for a moment as she looks at Bruce. "If only I could have had a child with you, Bruce, how magnificent they would have been."

"You couldn't get what you wanted from me, so you took it from my son instead?!" That controlled expression breaks as Bruce's voice rises, echoing around the cave's walls. "Talia -"

"No! I did not plan for this." Talia sounds genuinely outraged at the assumption, and in her arms Damian stirs, whimpering. She bounces him gently to calm him back down. "Believe me, beloved, I meant to do something good with Jason. I wished to restore him for you, but after I put him in the Pit he was not what I hoped he would be, he was... _wrong._ My father said I had unleashed a curse upon the world, but I did not believe it. I still sought to help him and when I saw him hurting I offered comfort and nothing more. I did not purposefully mean to bring Damian into existence."

Talia looks sadly wistful for a moment, then her expression hardens, "But now that he is here I will not give him up. Not for you, not for anyone."

"You can't get away, Talia, the best choice you can make is to return the boy willingly." Bruce's hands have tightened into fists at hearing her tale. "Do the right thing."

"You speak as if you hold the power here, beloved," Talia smirks at him, "I assure you, you do not."

Suddenly Dick hears the sound of footsteps echoing down the tunnel behind them. He looks at Bruce, then at Talia, who smiles smugly before turning to walk away with Damian in her arms. When he squints he can make out the dark sliver of another opening at the opposite side of the cave; he'll bet anything that it leads to her helicopter. 

"Goodbye, Bruce. Tell Jason I am sorry, but he must accept that this is the way things have to be."

"Save your apologies for someone who'll believe them, Talia." Dick snaps, while beside him Bruce reaches up to press his fingers against his ear. He only speaks one word.

"Arsenal."

Dick see's Talia turn back around, confusion writ on her face before there's a sudden, tremendous _boom_ from up above and the entire cave shakes around them. A few rocks break free of the ceiling and fall ominously down into the frothing green waters below while all of them fight to keep their feet. Dick swears when he see's Talia stumble perilously close to the edge of the Pit, but her reflexes are second to none and she recovers herself without issue.

This, finally, is too much for Damian to ignore and he wakes up. His small distressed sounds are far from the outright bawling that Dick would have expected from Lian or another child in this situation.

"What did you do?!" Talia says furiously, ignoring her son's cries as she brings the gun back to bear on Bruce.

"Cut off your escape route. I told you, you're not going anywhere with that child, Talia."

"Very clever, detective." She spits back at him, sounding more like Ra's than Dick's ever heard from her before. "But you're still outnumbered. I had hoped to spare you your life, but now you leave me no choice."

The floodgates open. Armed ninja's begin to rush into the chamber from the tunnel behind them and Bruce wastes no time in shoving Dick ahead, "Nightwing, get the boy! I'll hold them off!"

Dick doesn't need to be told twice. He doesn't like to leave Bruce behind alone but they've faced worse odds apart before and the tunnel is natural choke point for Batman to use against Talia's soldiers. So he ducks and rolls out of the way of Talia's gunfire, then hurtles after her as she takes off for the other exit. 

They leave the sounds of fighting behind them for the darkened tunnel. Ahead of him Dick can still hear the echoes of Damian's soft, muted crying. It digs into his heart; he never likes to hear children cry, whether they are or aren't tenuously related to him. The only benefit of that unfortunate sound is that it makes it easier to keep track of Talia in the dark, especially as the path runs up a rough set of stairs that turn from stone to metal, and then branches off into a set of different corridors.

What is it with bad guys and building their secret bases like a disorganised ants nest anyway?

As they reach the next level weak artificial lights flicker into existence, and Dick see's Talia's figure ahead of him. She's fast, but carrying Damian is slowing her down. He realises it won't matter in a moment though as Talia slips through an open doorway and hits a button on the other side.

_Shit._

Dick pushes his body harder, heart pounding in his ears as he races against the closing door. It's thick, heavy metal, probably has a magnetic locking system, and there's no way in hell he'll be able to break through it quick enough to catch her if he doesn't make it in time.

His muscles start to protest at the strain, but Dick keeps going, watching the smug look leave Talia's face as he gets closer. She raises the gun, fires, and he feels a sharp, white hot pain streak across his left bicep as he dives forwards, forcing her to backpedal quickly. Dick swears he feels metal catch at his legs as he just barely makes it through the door before it closes. "Talia!"

Her nostrils flare, and her spiced scent, which had always carried an acrid edge to Dick's nose, sharpens with anger. The gun raises again and he feels horrible for Damian, whose sensitive ears must have suffered so close to the sound of it going off. The boy has his head buried against Talia's shoulder and Dick tells himself that it'll all be better once they get out of here.

"Give it up. Put Damian down and maybe I'll let you walk out of here without kicking your ass." Dick doesn't go for his escrima yet, hoping that she'll see sense without things having to escalate any further.

"You're so sure you're in the right, aren't you, Richard?" His ears perk as Talia addresses him by name. "So sure that you are just in seeking to take my son from me and return him to Jason. Do you truly believe he would be a better parent than I? That he can give Damian more than I can offer?"

Dick glares back at her, "Jason doesn't intend to raise him as an assassin, unlike you."

"Tch." Her exquisite mouth curves in a smile. "He's a killer, just the same as I am. You're a fool to trust him, Richard. If you'd seen what I'd seen..."

"Changed your tone haven't you?"

It'd be almost comical, the way Talia's eyes widen - a flash of what actually might be fear crossing her face, if Dick didn't feel the same gut-wrenching stab of apprehension himself. They both turn and look together at the opposite end of the room - some kind of storage area filled with huge wooden crates - and Dick wants to smack himself for not realising they were no longer alone sooner.

Jason looks terrible, pale and sweaty, his dark curls more unruly than ever. He holds his body stiffly, whether it's due to tension or because his wounds are playing up is hard to tell. Either way, him being down here is not a good thing. The situation is already explosive enough without adding Jason's volatile personality to the mix.

Next to him Tim looks apologetically at Dick, and also appealing. Dick realises his youngest brother has no idea what to do, but unfortunately neither does Dick. All they can do right now is let this play out and step in if necessary.

"Jason." Talia's arm tightens around Damian, who has suddenly gone quiet. Dick can make out his eyes now, wide open as they look Jason's way as well.

"What happened to everything you told me before, huh? All that stuff about me doing the right thing, about being the Batman Bruce should've been?" Jason says bitterly, taking a slow step forwards. "You're the one who pointed me down that path, Talia, so don't try and play the innocent here."

"Jason, I did not mean it that way."

Jason snarls, and it's such a low ugly sound that it raises Dick's hackles on reflex even though it's not directed at him. He's never quite heard anyone make a sound like that before, especially an omega. "Then what way did you mean it? Because I'm starting to have trouble picking the lies apart here. You're just saying whatever you think will make you appear in the right!"

He takes another step, and another, voice rising. "I trusted you, you bitch! I left Damian with you because I thought he'd be safe! But you're full of shit, just like everyone else I ever trusted!" Jason's shaking, his gaze fixated on Damian as he walks. "You kidnapped my son, then you sent Deathstroke after me when I tried to get him back. Jesus Christ, look at yourself, you're just as fucked up as your father was, and I'm not going to let you take Damian down the same path."

"How dare you!" Talia shouts incredulously, pointing her gun at Jason now. Dick tries to remember how many shots she's already fired and how many she might have left. One? Two? "I gave you life, I saved you! I even offered you a place by my side, which you rejected. You forced my hand, but even so I was prepared to spare your life."

The flash of hurt over Jason's face is there and gone again. Dick clenches his fist as he speaks up, "Deathstroke was going to cripple him, Talia. That's not exactly what I'd call mercy."

"Exactly." Jason leaps on his words, prowling closer, "So I don't really give a shit about you anymore, Talia, or your excuses. Give me Damian back before I kill you."

"Kill me?" Talia sounds amused as well as angry, "You'd do that in front of our son?"

"Maybe, if it'd save him from you."

Then Dick's heart seizes in his chest as Jason pulls out a gun from underneath his jacket, pointing it at Talia's head. Behind him Tim starts, hands tightening their grip on his bo-staff as he looks uncertain whether to point it Jason's way or not. "Wait!"

"Jason don't!" Dick steps forwards now, adding his shout to Tim's. He holds his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "She's got nowhere to run. She's surrounded and outmanoeuvred, this is unnecessary. Don't do something you'll regret."

"Who says I'll regret it?" Jason laughs bitterly, but with an edge of desperation. "Put my son down, Talia."

This is so not going the way it was supposed to.

"Damn it, Jason! If you pull that trigger there's no going back! You know what we'll have to do." Not to mention the risk that he might hit Damian by accident, no matter how good his aim is. _Come on, little wing, I know you're in there somewhere. Think about this._ "You've worked so hard to get Damian back, don't blow it now."

Talia looks between them, lips pursed. "Is that it? Are you being forced to good behaviour by threat of imprisonment, Jason?"

"Shut up."

"I see, how good of them. And yet, you still can't play heel can you? It is not in your nature. You have seen the truth, Jason, where they have not. You know there is only one way to deal with the worst of humanity."

"Shut up!"

She's goading him, Dick realises, though he's not sure for what purpose. Maybe in recognising that she herself has lost Talia is determined to make sure Jason doesn't win either. It's ultimately petty and disgusting, and he prays Jason has the control over himself not to fall for it. "Don't listen to her, Jason. Put the gun down."

"Don't tell me what to do, Dick!" Jason roars, sweat dripping down his temples. The sour note of stress in his heavy scent is pungent in the air.

Behind him Tim casts a look at Dick, sliding into position. He's only waiting for a signal from Dick to act but Dick can't give it, it's too risky, and he wants so much for Jason to make the right choice on his own.

Then something happens which changes the situation entirely without Dick having to lift a finger.

"Ma." Everyone shuts up at the sound of that voice, young and hesitant. Damian's eyes are red and his cheeks streaked by tears, but there's something oddly determined about him as he points a chubby little hand in Jason's direction. "Ma."

In other circumstances Dick would really wish for a camera to capture the expression on Jason's face right now, incredulous and ultimately charmed. The gun lowers a little in his shaking hand. He swallows thickly, and his voice is hoarse as he says, "Hey little man."

The confirmation is enough to spur Damian, who starts struggling to leave his sire's arms, pushing at Talia's chest, pointing insistently in his desire to get to Jason. "Ma!" He tells her, "Ma!"

"Yes," Talia says heavily, something finally seeming to break in her, "I suppose he is."

Dick holds his breath as she kneels down, sadness stealing over her face; Damian's action the key to her surrender of him. Maybe she really does genuinely love him, he thinks, observing how suddenly tired and defeated she looks. In another world Dick could have felt sympathy for Talia, but in this one he's just relieved that this is happening without further bloodshed.

Talia sets Damian on his feet, bending so her mouth is next to his ear. She whispers something that can't be made out, except for the fact that she's talking in Arabic, before letting him go. Free of her hold Damian wobbles a moment, before confidently toddling over towards Jason, who thumbs the safety back on his gun before throwing it aside as he kneels to meet his son. Thank Christ.

Watching Jason sweep Damian into his embrace and press him close does funny things to Dick's chest. His younger brothers expression is one of palpable, awed relief as he bends his head down to smell his sons dark spiky hair, and revealing of a whole host of insecurities that Dick hadn't considered Jason might have up until this point. His hand runs up and down Damian's back possessively. He may even be crying as Damian keeps repeating, "Ma!" over and over, reaching up with small hands to explore Jason's face, but Dick tries not to look too closely at that. Just being here feels a little too much like an invasion of privacy already.

Plus he still has a job to do.

Dick jerks his head at Tim and together Robin and Nightwing round on Talia as she regains her feet, putting themselves between her and the newly reunited parent and child. "Talia -"

"One day he will seek me out of his own accord." Talia informs them coldly, "It's his destiny."

"Then it'll be his choice, won't it?" Dick replies, snarling at her to show what he thinks of that statement. It takes every bit of control he has not to leap forward and pummel her into the ground. "For now it's over."

"For now." She agrees, pointing her gun back at him again. "Are you going to try and arrest me as well?"

"What do you think?"

Talia thins her lips. "I think we are done here. No prison you have is invulnerable to the League and I exist by no law of any country on this Earth. You have what you came for, follow me now and I will kill at least one of you."

The way her eyes linger on Dick suggests which one of them she would prefer. Tim shoots him a look, "We're not going to let her go, are we?"

Dick doesn't like the idea much either, especially Talia's arrogant presumption that they'll just do as she says, but the truth is they've never been able to keep either her or her father imprisoned before. He's thinking about that when his earpiece crackles, Bruce's deep voice sounding in his ear. Dick's relieved to hear him alive and well. "Nightwing."

He reaches up to touch his fingers to his earpiece, "Hey B, we got Damian back." he reports at once to the unspoken question, fighting a smile at Roy's woop of triumph on his end, "What should we do about Talia?"

"The jets scanners are showing League reinforcements are on their way. I've called the jet to meet us outside the front gates. Leave her and get Jason and the boy back up to the surface. I'll meet you there after I've taken care of the Pit."

Son of a - "But Bruce -!"

" _Now_ , Nightwing."

"Fine." He spits and cuts the communication, glaring as Talia smirks at him. He's still not about to let her get off entirely scot-free, no matter what Bruce says. Not after everything she's done. He sighs openly, letting his disappointment show openly on his face before catching Tim's attention. "Robin, manoeuvre seven-four."

Tim doesn't miss a beat, reacting instantly to the command. He goes left and Dick veers right, counting on Talia's indecision on which one of them to shoot first to play to their advantage as Tim whips out a batarang and knocks the gun out of her hand. Dick pulls out a pair of cuffs from his gauntlets as he leaps forwards, twisting in mid-air to snap one hoop around Talia's outstretched hand before kicking her feet out from underneath her. Her cry of outrage as he locks the other cuff around a metal pipe fixed to the wall is more than worth it.

"Damn you!"

"Sorry, I know it's rude to cut and run." Dick quips, stepping back out of her reach. He holds up his hand for a quick fist bump with Tim before turning to walk over to Jason, putting his back to Talia in flippant display to show how obviously little he thinks of her. Between two warring alpha's it's an incredibly insulting move. "But hey, you'd know all about that, don't you?" 

"I will get you for this, Richard." Talia says darkly, her expression showing that the jibe hit home. "I swear it."

"You bad guys always say such sweet things. Now, why don't you sit there and think about what you've done, and just so you know," Dick stops and looks back at Talia, baring his teeth at her in a last, obvious threat, "If you ever come near Jason and Damian again I'll make what you had Deathstroke do to him look like a walk in the park compared to what I'll do to you."

He kneels down next to Jason, "Hey..." His younger brother has pulled off his mask, letting Damian see his face openly. God, he really hates to interrupt the moment. "Jay, we gotta move. Come on, the plane's waiting."

"... what?" Jason looks dazed, his pupils blown, and Dick knows he's probably riding high off Damian's scent and presence now that's he's back with him. He's seen it before with other parents reuniting with their children after a long-term kidnapping case. Dick takes care to be gentle as he touches his elbow, not wanting Jason to snap back into the aggressive mode he was displaying previously.

"We gotta go. It's time to take Damian home."

Jason's arms tighten protectively around Damian nonetheless. The toddler has his head burrowed in against his mothers neck, making soft cooing noises at this rediscovered connection. "Home."

"Yeah, come on." He helps Jason get back onto his feet and nods to Tim to lead the way out. Whatever way he and Jason used to access the base from the manor above must be near here somewhere. "I got you, little wing."

Behind them Talia curses and Damian stirs, trying to look over Jason's shoulder back at her. "Baba?" he asks questioningly, voice impossibly small. He starts to look distressed all over again once he realises that they're leaving Talia behind. 

Jason just shakes his head and tucks his son back in tighter against his chest, folding his jacket around him as if he can hide Damian from the world. If the knowledge that Damian wants both his parents to come with him troubles Jason he doesn't let it show. Explaining why this has to be to Damian is a problem for another day, one that Dick doesn't envy his little brother. 

The only thing that matters now is getting them back to the safety of Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So phew! Damian's back with Jason and all is right in the jungle (except when it isn't). 
> 
> There's one more full chapter left to this story, and then after that there'll be an epilogue. I'm also going to go ahead and announce that there'll be a sequel to this story too, as I've become far too invested in this universe to leave it alone so easily ~~if I can't officially get JayDick to happen in this story you can be damn sure I'll get it to happen in the next~~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, we're almost at the end and since I had this chapter ready I decided to plough ahead and post it up for you. Resolution is afoot! I also have the epilogue pretty much completed too, and you can expect that on Monday.
> 
> Many thanks for reading, I'm thrilled with how far this story has come!

Jason doesn't remember much of the ride back to Gotham.

Dick had been there, a firm guiding hand leading him up to the surface, and so had Tim Drake. He remembered them getting him and Damian back up and into the plane where Roy had already been waiting, Bruce joining them shortly after. It felt like a dream thinking back, almost like he'd been drugged. All he could think about was Damian's small warm weight in his arms, the softness of his hair, the sound of his breathing and the familiar sweetness of his infant scent, only a little more matured than the last time Jason had been with him.

His son, right back where he ought to be.

In the jet he'd sequestered himself in the back, settled with Damian in his lap and his jacket draped over the exhausted sniffling boy. The day had been hard and stressful for all of them, but doubly so for a child barely able to comprehend what was going on and pulled away from everything familiar in his life for the second time.

Whenever Damian asked about Talia it twisted a knife in his chest.

Vaguely Jason envisions Bruce's huge hulking silhouette looking down at him, then the brighter red form of Harper as he settled himself in the nearest chair to Jason, spreading out his legs in the form of a barrier between him and the rest of the plane's passengers. He'd automatically taken the position of guard, playing a role Jason hadn't even known he needed someone to. It just went to show how much more in tune Roy was with his needs as an omega than Jason was.

Now he wakes up, at ho - in the manor, in the bedroom he'd been given as part of his second tenure here, and looks down to see the most amazing sight in the world: Damian looking right back at him.

A smile breaks out on his face as he reaches his hand to brush over Damian's cheek, "Hey, little man."

It's amazing how much of a difference seven months can make. Damian's grown so much, his face has lost a little more of that baby fat, letting his features become more defined. His hair is thicker, cut back into a short severe style that spikes up everywhere, and his green eyes are bright set against his dark toned skin. Jason could seriously stay and study him for hours, but Damian has other ideas.

His hand pushes against Jason's chest, as he wears an expression that's ridiculously adorable for how serious it is on someone who isn't even two years-old. "Mama."

"Yeah, I'm here." Jason leans in and nuzzles Damian's temple, sniffing him happily for a moment. He's still wearing the dark shirt and trousers with red sash he was in when they rescued him from Talia. "You hungry, thirsty?"

"No." It amazes him to hear Damian talk, when he was still restricted to baby babble before. From what Jason knows he probably doesn't have a wide vocabulary yet, but it's still fantastic. So far he's heard 'mama', 'baba' and 'no', and Jason's looking forward to finding out what other words he can say.

He sits up, lifting Damian into his lap as he does. It registers then how much his body still aches from all the exercise he got yesterday but Jason ignores it. "You sure? Because I know I am. It's been a long time since either of us had anything to eat." It's hard to tell how well Damian's comprehending any of what he's saying, but Jason was always happy to carry on one-sided conversations with him before and nothings changed now. "I'm not sure what you like now, but Alfred's a whiz in the kitchen, so I'm sure we can find something to your taste."

Damian yawns and scrubs his hand over one eye before shoving his head against Jason's chest after a cursory glance at the room. Right, new surroundings. Younger children were especially sensitive to sudden changes in their lives.

"Yeah, I know, Dami, I know." Jason strokes his hair carefully for a few moments, long enough to notice another smell wafting up under his nose. He snorts, because of course."Not quite out of diapers yet, huh?"

Damian makes a noncommittal whine and Jason wonders what on earth he's going to do in the absence of having any spare diapers to put him in. He really should have thought about this before they set off. Damian's going to need a whole host of things like diapers, up to and including new clothes, a crib and toys to name a few, and getting them on short notice is going to be a real pain in the ass.

He starts to wonder if Alfred would kill him for using a towel when he looks over at the door and notices a pile of things that weren't there before sitting against the wall beside it. Things Jason was obviously too wrapped up in Damian to observe the night before.

"God bless, Alfred." Jason breaks into another genuine smile as he says it. "He really does think of everything."

It'd be easier to leave Damian sitting on the bed while he goes over to investigate the small collection of baby essentials, but neither Jason nor Damian are willing to let go of each other, so Jason sits him on his hip, supported by his cast-covered arm and bears the strain as best he can. He needs his right hand to root through the pile. Eventually he manages to gather a diaper that looks like it will fit the size Damian is now, some wipes and a mat to lay him down on. 

"Here," he also finds a small stuffed dog toy that makes him wonder if Dick had gone blabbing his mouth to the butler after their first talk in Jason's old bedroom, "Hold onto this for me, Damian."

It takes a little waving in his face for Damian to take notice, but once he does he looks delighted as he grabs it, which means he's suitably distracted as Jason lays him down and sets about the messy business of changing his dirty diaper and getting him into some fresh clothes. It might be sad to say he'd even missed this unpleasant aspect of child-rearing.

"Daw'."

"Mmhm."

"Mama, daw'!"

Jason looks up at him properly this time as he finishes slipping a clean shirt over Damian's head, then rolls the dirty diaper up inside Damian's old clothes to throw away later. He can't resist reaching in to tickle Damian's belly and gets his hand whacked by the toy for doing so. "Daw'!"

He's definitely got more demanding with age, that's for sure. "Daw... you mean dog?" Jason blinks at the toy, which is brown and has a white spot over one black-button eye. "Dog?"

"Daw'." Damian says with conviction, sitting up under his own power and reaching for Jason again now that the torturous process of diaper changing is done. "Up!" Jason happily acquiesces to his desire to be held, not hesitating to snuggle him close again.

Leaving this room with Damian is officially the last thing Jason wants to do right now, even though he knows he has to. They both need to eat and hiding in the long run will makes things worse rather than better. It's just... he only _just_ got him back, he doesn't want to share him with anyone else just yet and going outside this room will mean doing just that; even if those people are ostensibly Damian's family too.

Eventually Jason sighs and nudges Damian's head back up so he can see his eyes, "Hey. You know I love you, right, Dami? Because I do, I love you. I'm so sorry I ever left you behind and I swear I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure it never happens again. I promise."

Even if it means he has to compromise his own beliefs to do so.

Damian looks up at him, sucking on his toy dogs ear. Jason hopes he understands what he was just told on some level. "Okay," he smiles, "Good enough. I'll take that as a sign you really are hungry, even if you don't want to admit it. Come on, squirt."

With some careful balancing Jason gets back up onto his feet again, sitting Damian against his right hip as he heads for the door. He only hesitates briefly before pulling it open.

Outside the hallway is empty, and Jason feels Damian cling tighter both to his side and to his new toy. It takes Jason back briefly to when he'd been a boy of twelve and how huge and lonely the Wayne manor had seemed to him back then. It'd taken a few weeks for him to start to treat the place as home, to trust that this sudden wealth and luxury wasn't all a cruel joke ready to be snatched away from him in an instant.

"I know," he starts talking as they head for the stairs together, "It's a pretty weird place, huh? I used to think it was haunted when I first got here, used to sit up waiting for ghosts to come get me in the middle of the night. It's really not that bad though, you'll see it when you're older. The banisters are great for riding down, and all the floors are wood, so you can slide about in your socks all day if you want. I'm sure Dick can't wait to teach you that."

"Duck." 

"And there's a whole library of books here for when you learn to read. I didn't even get through a quarter of them before I... uh..." he trails off, having to blink slowly a couple times as he makes his way down the stairs. "... what did you say?"

"Duck." Damian's voice is muffled against Jason's shirt.

It takes Jason a moment. "You mean Dick? Dick is Duck?"

"Yeh, duck."

Oh if Jason isn't going to use that one against Dick later. He smiles smugly, keeping his ears and nose pricked for anyone else who may be about. "Okay, Uncle Duck it is. Gotta keep you to a family-friendly rating, little man."

They make it downstairs. Jason keeps up a steady stream of talking to comfort his son, while Damian peeks out nervously from his side, and Jason can't help but wonder if he would have been more vocal back with Talia or if this was what was normal for him. There's just so much he doesn't know about the kind of kid Damian is now, so much to find out.

Had Talia loved Damian the way Jason did? Had she held him, kissed him, had she played with him and given him the comfort and encouragement he needed? Or, as Jason feared, had she already tried to start turning him into the perfect little al Ghul heir she wanted him to be? If that was true Jason would forever regret not taking the chance to kill her.

"Alfred?" He calls ahead before going into the kitchen. If he's lucky maybe no one will be there, then he could snag some food and retreat back upstairs, but at the same time he wouldn't mind if it's Alfred, or maybe even Roy or Dick. Just so long as it's not Bruce; seeing Bruce again after what happened yesterday is something he wants to put off as long as possible. The others surely would have told him the tale of what happened and what that will entail for Jason he doesn't know, only that he's not yet ready to confront it.

He could try running now, he supposes, but to what end? That's not the kind of life he wants for Damian.

Alfred answers him before he can consider that train of thought any further, "In here, sir."

The butler is sat at the large table, a half-drunk cup of tea in front of him, as well as the days newspaper. As soon as he see's Jason enter with Damian he starts to rise, and Jason feels immediately bad for interrupting the old man's alone time. "Hey, no. Don't get up, Alfred."

"Nonsense," Alfred smiles at him, at both of them. "You must both be hungry. I shall prepare lunch for you at once."

"... lunch?" Jason turns and looks out of the window, then at the clock on the wall. It's generous to even call it that. "Huh, go figure."

He takes a seat at the table as Alfred folds his newspaper, then heads to the fridge to start pulling out ingredients. "Does the young man have any allergies I should know about?"

"Not the last time I checked." Jason murmurs, looking down as he resettles his son into his lap. That's an uncomfortable thought, as it's entirely possible that Damian may have developed some allergies Jason doesn't know about, and it must show on his face because Alfred looks back over his shoulder and makes an executive decision.

"Hm, perhaps something simple would be best then. I believe pancakes will suffice, as much as it pains me to make a breakfast food at lunchtime." The old man lets out a long-suffering sigh as he pulls milk, eggs and butter from the fridge, putting them on the side before reaching to get the flour and other ingredients out of the cupboard.

Jason grins, running his fingers soothingly through Damian's hair; it's a calming motion for both of them. Reassurance through physical contact is a pretty big deal. "Figure you'd be used to that by now."

"Regrettably so, Master Jason."

The next few minutes pass quietly except for the sound of Alfred's cooking. Jason turns his focus on Damian, grateful for the butlers intuitive sense not to immediately crowd the boy with attention he wasn't ready for. In a house full of strangers it was better to let Damian adjust at his own pace than trying to force it on him.

Sure enough, after hiding his face against Jason's chest for the first five minutes, Damian eventually turns his head just enough to peek out and watch the butler. The smell of food probably goes some way to luring him out of hiding too. It's cute, and Jason kind of wishes for a camera or phone to snap a photo of him. Not having any photo's of Damian to hand had been a major regret during their time apart.

"Here we are, sirs." Alfred sets a high steaming plate of pancakes down in front of them, with blueberries on the side and a bottle of syrup to use for garnishing, as well as an extra serving plate. Jason feels his mouth start to water immediately but swallows down his own hunger to attend to Damian first.

"Thanks, Alfred." He takes the knife and fork, spearing a couple of fat, fluffy pancakes's onto the second plate and starts cutting them up into neat bite-sized chunks with some of the blueberries. Damian pulls his face completely away from Jason's chest, wriggling around to watch. Jason takes that as a sign to try and make an introduction. "Hey Dami, you gonna say hi?" Jason says as he finishes cutting up the pancakes and sets the utensils down, "Say hi to Alfred."

Predictably his son says nothing, just stares at Alfred as he takes the seat opposite them. Alfred on the other hand smiles genially, even going so far as to affect a small bow at the table as he greets the toddler. "Master Damian."

Jason has to fight not to laugh as Damian turns his head to shoot a look upwards at him, "Yeah, that's Alfred. Going to say hi?"

Damian appears to think it over for a total of five seconds before shaking his head, "No." and reaching for the plate of food eagerly instead. Jason let's out a huff of air as he moves the tasty morsels in range of Damian's grasping fingers, not really caring if he used his hands to eat this time, though he knows Alfred might.

Jason's mouth crooks up in apologetic smile, "I swear I was teaching him manners before, Alf."

"Given the circumstances I shall excuse the young man in this instance." Alfred looks dryly amused as Damian shoves pancakes and blueberries into his mouth in equal measure, only slowing when Jason interferes for fear of him making himself choke. "I'm sure you will continue his education in that regard shortly."

"You betcha." He snorts as Damian smacks at his hand with now sticky fingers. Jason catches the hand, bending down to pretend to nibble at it and Damian let's out a surprised shriek of laughter, kicking and wriggling in his lap. By some miracle Daw' has yet to fall to the floor.

"Mama no!"

"Uh, mama yes." Jason grins, kissing his fingers instead, "Behave you gross little monster, I'm hungry too. Don't make me eat you instead of the pancakes."

Damian scrunches his face up, puffing out his fat little cheeks. He points insistently at the plate, "Pancay's?"

"Yeah, pancakes." Jason kisses the top of his head, "You can keep eating, just slow down, okay?"

"Kay."

He watches Damian until he's satisfied he's eating at a more sensible rate. Then, when Jason looks up he colours, a little embarrassed to find Alfred giving him a wistfully fond look. He was so caught up in the moment he forgot they weren't alone, and he smiles sheepishly as he pulls the larger plate towards him. It's not easy operating entirely one-handed, since he needs his left arm to hold Damian in place, but Jason manages it as he picks up the fork to tuck into his own lunch.

"I could assist you, if Master Damian allows it." Alfred offers upon spotting this difficulty, but Jason shakes his head, glancing down as he chews on a mouthful of pancake.

"I can't..." he swallows, "It's fine. I'm fine holding him." Jason's not ready to let go of Damian yet, or to let anyone else take him; even if that person is Alfred, the most trustworthy man Jason has ever known. "We're good." He takes another bite, licking his lips at the sweetened flavour of the syrup, and finally asks after the others. "Where is everyone?"

"Still abed I believe, aside from Master Bruce and Master Tim, who has returned home. They stayed up quite a bit later than you yourself did."

Given that Jason had immediately absconded back up to his room on landing that wasn't surprising. "And Bruce?" he asks, a touch more warily.

"Going over a few things in the cave." Alfred has that expression on his face, the one a young Jason always equated to him wishing to take a frying pan to the back of Bruce's head if it would make him sleep. "He would like to talk to you, when you're ready."

"I bet he would." Jason replies sourly, appetite vanishing at the thought. He pushes around the last few bites of pancakes left on his plate, before giving in and feeding them to Damian as the toddler casts a look up at him. "Thanks, by the way. For all that stuff you got for Damian upstairs, I didn't even think."

"It's quite alright. Taking care of this family is what I do. "Answers Alfred quietly, but poignantly. Together they watch Damian suck on his fingers now that all the food in sight has gone. His face is a sticky mess of blueberry juice and syrup, and without prompting Alfred stands up to retrieve a washcloth, as well as a glass of juice for them both (Damian's comes in a brightly coloured plastic sippy cup, the purpose of which he seems to recognise immediately).

Jason has a game of trying to wipe clean the face of a wilful toddler who is less than willing to cooperate. Damian squirms and kicks, purposefully trying to turn his head in the opposite direction every time Jason brings the washcloth near him, and consistently shouts "No!" between making the most adorable little baby growls Jason has ever heard from him. Damn, but if he doesn't love this kid with every fibre of his being.

"You," he murmurs to Damian, once the job is finally done and Damian is drinking happily from his sippy cup, "are such a cute little monster."

"It seems he takes after his mother." Alfred comments mildly, as he picks up the dirty plates to take to the sink. "I recall you being quite as difficult when you were twelve."

Jason splutters a little as he remembers himself at that age. Bruce had just brought him in off the streets, half-feral from a lack genuine connection to any other human beings for over a year and more likely to bite the hand that fed him than trust the offer of a hot meal. Alfred and Bruce both had been beyond patient with him as they taught Jason what it was to have a pack again, to feel like he _belonged_ , like he was someone who mattered.

Well, he thinks bitterly, up to a point. Someone else holds his old spot now.

"We're uh, going to go back upstairs." Jason announces after a moment, "Thanks for the meal, Alfred." He considers asking him to tell Bruce where to find him for a split-second, before deciding that he'd rather not invite that conversation just yet. Jason will seek out Bruce himself when he's good and ready and not before.

"Would you like me to bring your dinners up to your room for you this evening, sir?" Alfred asks, proving yet again that he may very well be a mind reader. Jason nods gratefully as he stands, hauling Damian back up so that he's balanced on Jason's hip again.

"Say bye, Dami."

Jason isn't actually expecting Damian to do as he's told, given the dismal attempt at getting him to say hello before, but just as they exit the kitchen Damian suddenly pipes up, calling a soft "Bye" and waving his cup in one hand and toy dog in the other.

That's progress for one of them at least.

 

*

 

The rest of the afternoon passes lazily. Jason finally manages to let go of Damian to allow him to explore the bedroom. The fact that the room is already well marked by Jason's own scent seems to embolden him and it's... it's nice, it's good as Damian pokes at the furniture and toddles round the floor, waving Daw' in the air as he goes.

There are a few more toys to be found in the supplies Alfred bought them and Jason pulls them out to pass one by one to Damian, who alternate's between sitting in his lap and finding hiding places to stow them in as he chatters to himself. It's most still baby talk, noise that mean something only to Damian, but Jason recognises some more words in there, a mix of English and Arabic as well as more half-formed sounds that could easily become proper speech with a little more practice.

It's the happiest Jason has been in a long time.

They play. Jason a little more energetically than he probably should, ignoring the warning pains his body gives him as he chases Damian around the room, though he refrains from following him under the bed. His shoulders have gotten a little too broad for that to be a comfortable fit, so Jason just lies down on the floor instead and tries to tease Damian out of his hiding spot, laughing at his giggles every time he escapes Jason's lunging grasp.

He's having such a good time pretending that the rest of the world outside his room doesn't exist that Jason misses the knock the first time it sounds. It takes Damian freezing in place under the bed for him to realise the source of the noise. "Hey," he soothes, "It's probably just Alfred with dinner, don't worry."

Damian refuses to come out, choosing to sit and chew on his stuffed dogs ear instead, so Jason leaves him to it and hauls himself over to the door alone. When he opens it he finds Harper there, not Alfred. "Uh, hey."

"Hey." Roy is back in civilian gear, his shoulder-length hair actually brushed under his cap and his scent no longer covered. "You cool to talk?"

"Depends," Jason leans himself into the doorway, subconsciously defensive of what his base brain considers his den. "About what?"

"Nothing big, I just wanted to check in on you before I headed back home."

Jason's surprise shows on his face, "You're leaving already?" 

"Got a mini-me of my own, remember?" Roy tips his head towards him. It's a lightly apologetic motion. "Speaking of, how's Damian doing? Alfred said you ventured out for food earlier, that's pretty impressive."

"Impressive why?" Jason asks sharply, hand tightening on the door.

Roy looks like he's fighting a smile, "That denning instinct you're demonstrating there, champ. That's why. I didn't expect you to come out at all today."

"There's more to me than instinct." 

Roy holds up his hands, "I didn't say otherwise. It's just a fact, Jaybird, you don't have to defend yourself to me. I'd be the same way in your place." He waits for a moment, seemingly at ease with the fact that this conversation is destined to remain in the doorway, before prompting Jason again. "So, Damian okay?"

"He's fine." Jason responds automatically, before rubbing the back of his neck uneasily. It pulls on his sore shoulder to do so but he doesn't let it show. "Well, he's hiding under the bed right now, but we were playing before you came along."

"Big shock for the little guy." Nods Roy in agreement, "Give him time and he'll settle in just fine, especially with a mama bear like you looking out for him. He'll be the most well protected kid in the world living here."

"Yeah, maybe." Jason can't bring himself to wholeheartedly agree, given how unsure he is about residing in the Wayne household. He's already sworn to himself that he'll do whatever it takes to keep custody of Damian but continuing to live here feels like a stretch. Trusting himself to not be at Bruce or Tim's throats constantly will be difficult, and Bruce likely knows it.

Sensing the danger of Jason's mood turning melancholy Roy reaches over and nudges his shoulder gently, a measured touch that stops short of being overly familiar. "Hey, so, just to let you know, my phone line's still open, so call me if you need to. Maybe Lian and Damian can have a play date sometime soon, it'd be good for him to make friends with someone his own age."

That's a point, Damian's been in isolation from other children his entire life so far as Jason's aware. It's not something that likely changed with him being under Talia's care alone, nor is it a good start to building social skills. The last thing Jason wants is for his son to end being as much of a fuck-up at interacting with other human beings as he himself is. "I'll think about it, once I know stuff. Lot of shi - things are up in the air at the moment."

"I gotcha." Roy purses his lips for a moment, like he's weighing something over in his head. "I remember how scary it was after I first had Lian, worrying that Ollie would decide I wasn't good enough to keep her."

Jason glances back quickly into the room to make sure Damian hasn't gotten himself into any mischief, then frowns back at Roy. "Why would he have done that?"

"Told you, Jay, I was the resident fuck up of my family for a while. I got myself into some serious trouble, bad habits..." Roy scratches at the inside of his arm and it suddenly just _clicks_ for Jason, as the detective he's supposed to be and the stepson of a mother whose own drug addiction had ended up killing her. "Not saying it's the same, but I know the feeling you're going through, you know?"

"Yeah, I... Jesus, Roy, I had no idea." Heroin, most likely. Jason doesn't ask for confirmation. "Fuck, man." He says with more sympathy than he did before.

"Swear." The archer says automatically, before shuffling his feet. "And it's okay. I've been clean for years."

Still, it's a hell of a thing for Roy to just let Jason know that. A show of trust that he's not sure what to do with. "Huh," he finally says, "Feels like we should form a club."

"Single moms with daddy issues who got knocked up by super assassins?" Roy's says, face breaking out into a grin. "Or something more catchy. We can work on the name later."

That does it. Jason snorts and has to put his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of his laughter. "It sounds so much worse when you say it out loud."

"Yeah, but we own it!" Jason see's Roy offer out his hand to him, "Solidarity fist bump?"

"You are so lame." He shakes his head but goes through with it anyway, lightly nudging his scarred knuckles against Roy's. "No wonder you're Dickiebird's friend."

"And now yours too. Sorry to say it, Jaybird, but you're kind of doomed." Retracting his hand, Roy reaches up to scratch his chin but stops halfway, gaze lowering down to about the level of Jason's knees. "Well hey there, Damian. Ain't you a cute one."

Jason starts, eyes shooting down and back to see Damian hovering behind his legs. At being addressed his son presses right in against Jason's calves, hugging his toy tight and peering shyly up at Roy. He must've gotten impatient waiting for Jason to come back. "Yeah, he sure is."

Roy drops down to his haunches, extending a freckled hand towards Damian and letting it hang there. "Looks just like you, Jay, only more handsome." Jason snorts again, but keeps watching them closely as Roy talks to Damian. "I like your dog."

"Daw'." Damian answers in bashful agreement, completely hiding his face against Jason's leg a second later.

It's a good cue for Jason to end the conversation, though he finds himself reluctant to do so. "Well," he says as Roy straightens back up, "I guess I'll see you."

"You sure will. Remember," Roy puts his hand up to his face, thumb and little finger sticking out while the rest of his fingers curl into the palm, "Call me. Don't make me chase you down, Jaybird."

"I'll try not to." It occurs to Jason that at some point he's become resigned to that nickname without realising it. Roy Harper really has a way of getting under people's skin. 

He listens to Roy say goodbye to Damian, unperturbed that the toddler doesn't acknowledge it, and as soon as he's gone Jason bends down and scoops his son up into his arms, shutting the door again behind them with his foot. That wasn't so bad. In fact it hadn't been bad at all.

"I hope introducing you to everyone else goes so smoothly." Jason sighs as he lays down on the bed, letting Damian snuggle into his chest. He closes his eyes for a moment, hand running up and down Damian's back., Alfred should be here soon and after dinner they can both take a nap. "I think we'll save Dick and Bruce for tomorrow though."

"Duck."

"Yeah," Jason grins instantly, "Duck."

 

*

 

Jason's life never goes to plan, it's something he should be used to by now.

After dinner he and Damian play together some more, before Jason reads Damian a bedtime story off a website he found on the tablet computer Dick had lent him to use last week - with strict restrictions in place for which website's he could access. Jason tries to follow his son into sleep soon after, curling around Damian in the middle of the bed, however he quickly finds that he can't seem to settle. He keeps waking up with a burning need to check that Damian's still there.

There's no nightmares causing it that Jason can tell, just a paranoia that keeps his brain wired and unable to relax.

Eventually he needs to go to the bathroom and that's a whole other conflict. Luckily in Alfred's bag of baby tricks Jason finds a monitor, and after some fiddling he manages to set it up so he can take the receiver with him as he ventures out of his bedroom into the dark corridor outside.

He hurries through taking care of his business, shaking off the water from his hands rather than grabbing a towel so he can get back to his room sooner.

He doesn't expect to quite literally run into Bruce when he opens the bathroom door.

Jason recoils so fast that he almost trips on the bathroom rug, only saved by Bruce's lightning fast reflexes. His mentor catches him about the waist, hauling Jason forwards again before he can add a cracked skull to his list of injuries. "Shit!"

"Easy." Bruce says, letting go of Jason as soon as he see's that he's steadied himself. He doesn't leave though, looking down at Jason from his greater two inches of height with a concerned gaze. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Jason mutters sourly, trying to hide his embarrassment. "You just startled me." He looks sharply up at Bruce, "What are you doing here?"

Bruce raises his eyebrows as if it's obvious, "This is my house."

"You know what I mean." He growls, holding tight to the receiver of the baby monitor. Bruce is wearing sweats, his usual choice of attire for after he comes in from a night of patrolling. So either he just came up from the cave or he's also up from bed in the middle of the night for some reason.

If Jason had to guess he'd pick the latter, going by the strength of Bruce's bourbon-and-coffee scent, it's like a balm to Jason's overworked senses. "I was getting a drink, actually." Bruce answers him, before visibly hesitating. Jason wouldn't call the offer he makes next tentative, but it's not said with the same ringing confidence that Bruce usually displays, "Would you like to join me?"

"Trying to get it over with, old man?" He spits out before he can stop himself, rocking back on his heels.

The looks Bruce gives him makes Jason feel all of fifteen years old again, stupid and impulsive and unable to hold a candle to his predecessor. "To get what over with, Jason?"

"You know what." Jason hates Bruce for making him say it out loud. "Whatever you've decided about me and Damian. Alfred said you wanted to talk to me, so what else could it be about."

Bruce looks pained. "I do want to talk to you about that Jason, but I didn't mean now. I wanted to check in with you and make sure both you and Damian are all right after yesterday. It's the middle of the night, that topic can be left for the daytime."

"Come on, B, we both know you do your best work in the dark." It registers that Bruce is offering him a temporary 'get out of jail free' card for at least a few more hours, but now that he's started Jason has to keep going. He's like a runaway locomotive barrelling towards a blown out bridge, unable to stop himself from plummeting to his doom. "Don't pretend you're not itching to get on with it."

"I'm not actually." He watches Bruce frown as he runs his fingers back through his hair, pushing loose strands out of his eyes. "Jason, are you absolutely certain you want to do this now?"

Bruce looks beyond tired, but even that can't turn Jason away now that he's started. "Sure as I can be, Bruce." he lies, clenching and unclenching the fingers of his right hand. He's going to regret this he knows, he's going to regret it so much. There's something so wrong with him that he just can't let this go.

"Let's go down to the kitchen then."

Bruce starts to walk but Jason remains rooted to the spot. It doesn't take long for Bruce to realise this and stop, "Jay lad?"

"I can't, I... I need to stay close to Damian." He has the monitor but it's not enough. If Damian wakes up Jason needs to be able to be there for him in seconds, not minutes.

"Ah." Bruce thinks for a moment, then heads to open the door of the empty bedroom right next to Jason's. "In here then. I'll go fetch us some tea and we can talk. Is that all right?"

Jason nods and waits for Bruce to disappear down the stairs before going inside. He sinks down onto the bed, pushing his face into his hands. Why. Why did he have to push Bruce to do this now? He could have so easily have gone back to bed and spent the rest of the night peacefully curled around Damian, marvelling in his continued existence. But no, instead Jason had to face the hangman on his own terms.

That's what this feels like. No law has ever convicted Jason of anything, yet he still carries the weight of a condemned man on his chest. What difference did one more day make anyway? The sooner he knew his fate the sooner he could try to come to terms with it - or plot a way around it.

Hot determination settles into his stomach like a burning coal, eating away at his insides. He _can_ plot around it, he realises. If he has to Jason can figure his way out around anything, he is after all a Bat like the rest of them. He was raised to think outside the box and overcome, so if Bruce delivers him with an ultimatum Jason's not okay with then he'll fight his way out of it, one way or another. He's not letting Damian go again.

Resolve set, he spends the rest of the time waiting for Bruce by watching the monitor set up. His thumb traces over the grainy black and white video of Damian over and over, but this time he's alert and ready for when Bruce appears in the doorway. Without a word Bruce hands Jason one steaming mug before sitting down with his own on the opposite side of the bed.

Silence reigns for all of a minute.

"You remembered how I like my tea." Jason says with some surprise after his first sip. The taste is almost perfect, with just a spot of milk and enough sugar to give Alfred conniptions over Jason's lack of proper tea etiquette.

"I remember everything about you, Jason." Bruce says after a moment, looking down into his own steaming mug (it's actually tea as well and not coffee like Bruce usually drinks). "I never forgot."

Jason swallows, balancing his mug on his lap as he reaches to rub at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Clearly, what with that thing you keep in the cave. Can't say it's exactly what I would have picked for my own memorial."

There's a huff of laughter and Jason almost smiles too. "I needed it, Jason." Bruce says a moment later, voice once again sombre. "What happened to you was the biggest regret of my life. I needed that reminder so that it would never happen again."

"Jesus. You never shy away from the self-flagellation, do you?" He picks his cup again, but doesn't drink. "You do know I'm alive now right? You don't need it anymore. You can put the damn thing away and forget about it."

Jason see's Bruce shake his head out of the corner of his eyes. "It's not about that, Jason."

"No, it's about you, of course." He replies coldly. "S'cuse me if you keeping a reminder of my fuck up around makes me uncomfortable."

"Jason..." Bruce looks directly at him now, regret etched into his chiselled features, "You didn't mess up, son. It wasn't your fault."

"You weren't there." The tea tastes like ashes in his mouth when he sips at it and Jason has to set the cup aside to hide his hand trembles. "You don't know." 

There's so much Bruce doesn't know, couldn't possibly know. Even if he had found out about Sheila's illegal activities after the fact he couldn't have suspected that she had willingly handed over her own child to the Joker herself. If Jason had just stayed where Bruce had told him to he wouldn't have died trying to save the life of a woman who didn't give two shit's about him.

Sheila had died too, that was the worst of it. He'd tried so hard to protect her in those final moments, throwing himself in the face of the bomb, and it had all been for nothing.

"I know you, son." Bruce reaches for him, his huge hand touching Jason's wrist with incredible gentleness. "You did what you thought was right, as I'd taught you."

"Sure." He doesn't pull his arm away, fighting his internal longing to move into the safety of Bruce's side. He can't, won't until he knows what's what. "Sure." Jason pushes himself to ask, "So what's the verdict, old man? What's going to happen to me and Damian now? Dick and the replacement must have told you what happened with Talia. Are there any terms and conditions I should know about or is it straight to a jail cell with me?"

Bruce grimaces. His hand withdraws as Bruce does, letting Batman come to the forefront for their next piece of business. It's not exactly right to say that Bruce and Batman are too different sides of the same man, the only false part of Bruce is the 'Brucie' persona that he puts on for the cameras, yet there's no denying that sometimes he uses Batman as a shield for when he needs to say the hard things. "I'm not putting you in prison, Jason."

"What, why?" Score one for Jason Todd looking a gift horse in the mouth. He almost can't believe his ears, or deny that a part of the crushing weight on his chest vanishes with the revelation.

"Because I don't believe prison would be an effective solution in your case." Bruce sets his own cup aside, then rests his elbows against his powerful thighs and steeples his hands in front of his face. He doesn't look directly at Jason as he talks. "It wouldn't help you, or rehabilitate you. Nor would it help Damian to be removed from both of his parents."

Jason frowns, "Wow, that's pretty hypocritical of you, B. What on earth would your buddies up there in the Justice League say?"

"It doesn't matter, it's none of their business." Bruce answers, voice flattening. "You're my son, a member of my pack, and..." He might as well be carved from granite right now for how stiff and still he sits. "The law doesn't always know best in these cases."

Jason rocks back at the admittance. His eyes sneak a glance at the screen of the baby monitor to check that Damian hasn't moved but otherwise his attention is entirely on Bruce. "It's nice to hear you admit that for once. Especially considering the fact that we're _vigilante's_. Technically we break the law every time we go out in costume."

That gets him a scowl. "I'm making an exception, Jason. This isn't an admittance that throwing away due process is always the right thing to do. Don't twist my words when I'm trying to help you."

"I'm just trying to find out where the line is for you to make one of these 'exceptions', that's all." Jason fires back, a voice at the back of his head screaming at him to shut up and not goad Bruce when he's getting what he wants. "Dying wasn't good enough for you, but apparently this is."

The mattress creaks as Bruce stands. The temperature of the air around them seems to drop a few degrees, and Jason suddenly regrets what he just said as Bruce fixes him with a gaze that could level mountains. "We are not having that discussion right now, Jason. And if you can't stick to the subject at hand we will leave this one for another time as well."

His voice rolls like thunder, vibrating through Jason's head and chest, stinging him with the urge to back down and bow his neck to Bruce's will as the alpha of the house. Jason won't go that far, he refuses, but he will grudgingly accept the decree for what it is. He's not going to let Bruce leave this room without being told what he expects of him in order to remain free.

"That's not what I... _fine_." He glares hatefully at the cast on his arm instead. "Fine, sorry. We'll table it. Just give me the terms and conditions, Bruce. I want to - I need to know what you want from me here, okay? Just give it to me straight. I swear I'll stay on topic."

Bruce gives him a hard judging look and Jason focuses his entire being on not snapping his teeth back at him. Finally Bruce nods and sits back down.

"I need you to understand, Jason, that everything I am about to say to you is non-negotiable. You will follow these guidelines as I give them to you and if you can't I'll be forced to enact a more severe punishment. I don't want to but you've proven yourself a danger to others before. What I need from you now is proof that you can toe the line, that you can change for the better." He pauses in case Jason wants to say anything here but Jason stays silent, clenching his teeth in the effort to not say anything more he'll regret.

Bruce eventually carries on, getting to the heart of the matter. "First of all, you will cease any and all vigilante activities unless I authorise you to do otherwise."

That... that's fine, actually, and nothing less than he expected. Jason has no current interest in leaping right back out into the night to chase criminals when he has a far more worthy cause waiting for him at home. Still, he has to clarify exactly what that means, "What about self-defence?"

"If you, Damian, or anyone else in your immediate vicinity is in danger you can respond with force. However I will expect restraint from you. If you cause serious harm, injury or death to anyone without due cause I will escort you to a Justice League sanctioned prison myself."

Bruce looks pale but resolute as he says that last part. Jason nods slowly, "Noted. What else?"

"You will not disappear or leave the vicinity of Gotham until given clearance to do otherwise. I won't force you to stay in the manor with our... situation. We both know that continued force proximity won't be good for either of us as this point. But I still want you to stay where I can keep an eye on you and Damian in case Talia comes after you again. As well as to follow your progress."

Jason rankles at that. Not being allowed to choose where to live or raise his son for the foreseeable future makes him feel like a child himself, yet again this is a decree he can live with, as much as it pisses him off. Jason knows Gotham like the back of his hand, even with all the changes that happened in the intervening years that he was gone; not even an earthquake could change that. It's been his home since birth and he knows the good areas from the bad, he knows how to sink in and belong, how to walk the streets and breathe the air. Here he knows how to stay both safe and alive even with the threat of supervillains. It's not that part that bothers him.

"What do mean, follow my progress?" Jason asks suspiciously.

Now Bruce looks like he's bracing himself for an expected battle. "I want you to see someone, Jason." He clarifies when Jason gives him a blank look. "A therapist."

"You want me to see a shrink?!" Jason starts incredulously, managing to keep his voice down but only just. "Are you crazy? I'm not going to spill my guts out to some asshole head doctor. How could I - I, what the hell kind of doctor is even out there that I could say this shit to?! I don't need a shrink, Bruce!"

Bruce is implacable. "The Justice League employs a number of trustworthy therapists, Jason. You can speak to them as yourself or as the Red Hood, changing the names of people and locations if you feel it necessary, but son..." He takes a deep breath. "I lost you before because I didn't realise how much you were hurting inside. You needed help that I didn't provide. All the things you've been through left their mark on you even before you died, Jason. And what happened to you after..." His voice breaks a little on the word 'died'. "I'm asking you to at least try talking to someone. Please."

 _Please_. Bruce just said please to him. "You said everything was non-negotiable."

"I did." Bruce concedes, "But with this I'm willing to allow you a trial period of one session a week for a month. If after that time passes you feel therapy isn't helping you can discontinue the sessions."

He extends a hand towards Jason, lowering his voice. "Jason, I know it's difficult but I need you to trust me. I am genuinely trying to help you here."

"Trust you. Trust... after you let that abomination live, after you _replaced_ me..."

"Jason!" Bruce closes his eyes for a moment, pained, but his hand remains where it is, waiting for Jason to reach out and take it. "Jason I didn't replace you. No one could replace you. You're my son and I told you before nothing will ever change that, _nothing_. I meant it."

"I was going to shoot her. I was going to shoot Talia." Jason admits, turning his head away. "I wanted to shoot her. Before that I was going to kill the woman who was my midwife."

"But you didn't, you refrained."

Jason shakes his head. "I stopped because of Damian, not because I didn't believe it was the right thing to do." This is it, this is the one thing he can't change or hide about himself, the one thing he needs to say so Bruce knows what he's doing in keeping Jason out of a jail cell. "Nothing's changed from what I told you before, Bruce. Some of the people we fight out there will never stop, they can't be rehabilitated and they deserve to die."

"Jason -" Bruce starts to say, a deep frown furrowing his brow.

"No." He holds up his hand to stop him. "I'm not saying I won't do what you're asking me to do, but you need to know that my beliefs are still the same. I'll be good, I'll toe your line, but I'll do it for Damian and Damian only. I'm not doing it because I believe that you're right, I'm doing it because he's more important to me than anything else." Jason swallows. "So I guess the question is, can you live with that?"

The air between father and son is rife with tension. Jason's words have struck a nerve he knows, spitting in the face of whatever hope Bruce had that Jason would come back around to his way of thinking so easily. Instead Jason has willing stuck his neck through his own noose, waiting to see if Bruce will tighten the knot or cut the rope.

Bruce withdraws his hand, settling it back down on his lap where his fingers curl into a fist. He's angry but Jason expected nothing less. It seems to take an eternity for Bruce to speak again."I can, so long as you don't seek to kill anyone else from this day forward."

"I won't go looking to kill anyone, but if someone comes at me and Damian again I'll do whatever's necessary to keep him safe." Jason says flatly, scratching his fingernails over the battered plaster of his cast to distract from the wounded look in his fathers eyes. "That's my answer, Bruce."

Relieved but troubled, Bruce restrains a growl and rubs his hand over his face. "That's good enough, for now. We'll leave it here for tonight and go over the rest of the details when you're ready. But now it's late and we both need to get some sleep."

"Sure thing, B." Jason knows a dismissal when he hears one. He stands, grabbing the baby monitor receiver as he does and rolling his stiff shoulder. This conversation has been well and truly draining, and there's no doubt in his mind that once he gets back to Damian he'll be able to fall asleep again. He wonders if it'll be the same for Bruce. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes. I..." He stops as Bruce starts to talk to him again, looking over his shoulder at the alpha still sitting on the unused guest bed. "I'd like to meet Damian then."

Jason smiles bitterly, "Yeah, I think he'd like that too." There's just one more thing he has to say before he goes. "Bruce..."

"Yes Jason?"

"Thanks. For helping me get Damian back, thank you."

He leaves without stopping to see how Bruce reacts to his words, pushing his way into his room as quickly as he can and making his way back onto the bed. Jason moves carefully, switching off the baby monitor before he wraps himself back around Damian. He buries his nose against his sons hair, inhales his sweet scent and feels the last of the tension inside him bleed away as exhaustion takes over.

They're going to be okay.

 

*

 

"It won't be so bad you know." Dick says from where he's sprawled supine on the hardwood floor, looking more comfortable than anyone has the right to in that position. It's two days later, things have calmed down, and Dick had managed to talk Jason into begrudgingly confessing what Bruce had asked of him.

"Which part?" Jason responds, watching Damian inch slowly closer to his uncle. He seems to think he's being sneaky even though there's no way Dick can miss his approach. Child logic is a wonderful thing. "The forced benching, the house arrest or the shrink?"

Dick snorts, "I was talking about seeing a therapist." Jason watches him stretch, and it's hard not to admire the easy grace of his long limbs, or the arch of his back upwards from the floor. "I've spoken to one before."

That's something Jason was totally unaware of. It surprises him because Dick can be just as close lipped as Bruce or any of them about what he's actually feeling. "Does it help?" he asks cautiously, wondering what it was Dick needed to speak to a therapist about.

"Yeah actually, it helps a lot sometimes." Dick nods as he purposefully avoids looking at Damian's approach. Lying down like he is makes him look as harmless as humanly possible to the toddler, which is good because even after three days back in the manor Damian's still pretty shy and hesitant to leave Jason's side. He'd warmed up first to Alfred as a beta, but it was taking longer with Dick as a strange alpha, and he'd only been warily interested in Bruce the couple times they'd been in the same room. "We spend so much of our lives hiding who we are and what we do. It can be cathartic to actually open up to someone about it, you know?"

Jason doesn't know. He doesn't think he's ever actually opened up to anyone like that before in his entire life, which makes him incredibly apprehensive about following Bruce's third demand more than any other.

Dick must pick up on it because he smiles sympathetically. "It's intimidating at first, I'm not gonna lie, but the more you talk the easier it gets. And everything you say is completely confidential. Just give it a chance, Jay."

"Easy for you to say, big bird."

Damian chooses that moment to pounce on Dick, quite literally jumping on top of his stomach, and Jason has the distinct pleasure of watching Dick's eyes bug out of his head at the unexpectedly heavy impact of baby weight against such a soft area. He can't help laughing, even as Dick quickly recovers and lets out a playful growl, lurching up as Damian giggles and beats a hasty to retreat to the safety of his favourite under the bed hiding spot, making sure to position himself behind the shield of Jason's legs.

Jason obliges him by not moving when Dick slithers over the floor after Damian, still mock-growling as he makes purposefully ineffectual swipes at the toddler. "Go 'way, Duck!" 

"Yeah, Duck." Jason grins, pushing as Dick's shoulder with his foot. "Go away."

Huffing Dick flops back down on the floor, managing to look truly hurt as he lets out a mournful "Quack". Trust Dick to take to the mispronunciation of his name like... well, like a duck to water. "You're both so mean to me."

"Who, us?" Jason pushes him again, sock covered toes nudging Dick's hip this time. "Are we mean, Dami?"

"No!"

He smirks triumphantly, "See? We're not mean, you're just a drama queen."

Encouraged by his mothers actions Damian army crawls back out from under the bed, this time dragging Daw' with him. He seems to consider, then bravely gets up to his feet and toddles over to place the toy on Dick's head. "Duck Daw'."

"Yep, that's definitely a Duck with a Daw' on his head." Jason says, managing to keep a straight face as he see's Dick's shoulders start to shake with restrained laughter. He decides to slide down onto the floor beside them, reaching to pull Damian back onto his lap so he can run his fingers through his hair. Some moments he still can't get over the fact that they're actually together again.

Damian, now fully confident in his ownership of Jason's room, only tolerates this for a couple of minutes, during which Dick stays obediently where he's fallen, toy dog still resting on his head. If Jason had a camera he'd have blackmail material for weeks, but then Damian wriggles his way free and runs back over to his collection of toys, a collection that seems to grow anytime Jason so much as blinks. 

"He's going to end up so spoiled." Jason murmurs, watching his son burrow into the pile and finally withdraw with something that has a lot of buttons and flashing lights on it. Damian settles himself down, gleefully ignoring the adults in the room as he goes about finding out just how many different noises his new toy makes.

"Did you ever have doubts about that?" Pulling Daw' off his face Dick shoves himself up from the floor and moves to sit next to Jason, leaning his back against the foot of the bed. "He's not even been here a week and everyone's already in love with him. Plus he's got a billionaire for a grandfather."

"Yeah, don't remind me." Jason plucks at a stain on his jeans from where Damian spilled soup on him earlier. Trying to stay clean around a toddler is a losing battle, one Jason's already come to terms with. "He wants to give me some money for when I move out. Says it's from some trust fund he set up when he first adopted me."

That had been a very uncomfortable conversation, much like any conversation he had with Bruce these days. Jason hadn't known how to deal with the revelation, nor the fact that Bruce hadn't been able to bring himself to close the account when Jason died. Apparently he'd planned to eventually donate it to charity and honestly Jason probably would have been more comfortable if he had. He's never liked been given hand outs.

Dick looks at him curiously, "Are you moving out?" 

Jason shrugs, "The old man is right about one thing, the two of us will end up getting into fights if I keep living here. It's better I get a place of my own for me and Damian. And this house..." he trails off uncomfortably. "There's too many memories here."

"I know what you mean." Dick eventually replies, looking thoughtfully down at his bare toes, "I feel the same way too. I miss living here full time, but at the same time I'm not a kid anymore. I need my own space."

They sit in companionable silence for a while. A little too companionable for Jason's taste, as he starts to wonder when Dick slotted himself so easily back into his life. It seems to be a skill unique to him, one that no one else in their family has ever mastered.

Finally, in need of a distraction from the topic at hand, Jason decides to address one of the elephants in the room. "I guess that means you'll be heading back to Bludhaven soon."

The flash of regret on Dick's face isn't what Jason was expecting. "Yeah, tomorrow actually. I've been gone too long as it is, I need to go make my presence felt. The crime rate's have started to rise without me there to keep them in check, any longer and the gangs will start to think they own the place again."

"Sounds like a real shit hole."

"It is, but it's _my_ shit hole." There's a whole mixture of emotions going off across Dick's face when he says that. Pride, sorrow, regret, and not least determination. Jason knows a lot about his elder brothers life there but not everything. Probably not even the worst parts. What he does know is bad enough, like the story of a guy called Roland Desmond.

Jason doesn't address any of that though, choosing to make a lame joke instead. "Gotta say, big bird, I'm kind of sad I missed out on your cop phase. I bet you cut a pretty good figure directing traffic."

Dick laughs, "Hey, I got to do some cool stuff too. I wasn't always on traffic duty."

"Sure you weren't. I just have to ask, did you get to keep the uniform?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Jason feels his cheeks heat up unexpectedly, even though he started the banter. "I -"

"Sirs," There's a knock on the door before Alfred pokes his head into the room. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Can I expect you to join us in the dining room today?"

The question's directed more at Jason and Damian than Dick, and Jason hesitates, chewing on his lip until Dick gives him a light nudge with his elbow. "Sure." he blurts out, before he can think it through. "We'll be there."

"Excellent. Don't forget to wash up before you come down." Alfred smiles at him and Jason can't regret the happiness his agreement gives the old beta. Their pack's been fractured for a long time, always with Alfred as the desperate glue trying to hold them together. Jason can certainly try and sit through a civil meal if it means that much to him.

"You got it, Alf."

When the door has shut again (Damian hadn't even looked up from his playing) Jason snorts and drops his head back against the mattress. "Don't forget to wash up... it really is like being a kid again living here."

"Told you." Dick agrees, eyes twinkling. "So hey, you'll let me know when you find a place, right? I can come help you set up, plus it's your birthday next month."

Shit, Jason thinks, it actually is his birthday next month. The date has crept up without him realising and it's a shock to think that he'll be twenty then. He's spent the past few years of his life so intently focused on either Damian or revenge that he's barely marked any of his birthdays since coming back to life. "You don't have to, you've got Bludhaven to look after."

"I know I don't have to, Jay." Dick says quietly, "I want to. There's a difference."

Jason blinks rapidly for a moment before shrugging, "It's a free country, knock yourself out."

He can see Dick's lip curl up in irritation at his avoidance. "Jay..." he starts, but Jason ignores him, standing up and heading over to Damian instead. "C'mere monster, let's get you cleaned up and ready for dinner."

Jason stands up with Damian in his arms, then freezes as he realises Dick's moved right behind him. This close it's hard to ignore the strength of his salted-caramel scent and Jason ends up standing stock still as Dick reaches around him to playfully bop Damian's nose, making the kid look cross-eyed as he tries to watch the path of Dick's finger.

"I meant it, Jay. Every word." Dick says quietly, breath ghosting across his cheek. Then he smiles, focusing his attention on Damian, "See you downstairs, little D." and whisks out the door before Jason can even begin to process what just happened. 

Oh hell no.

"You are not calling him that!" He yells out the door after Dick, before groaning as Damian giggles at him. Damn Dick and his dedication to bestowing stupid nicknames on everyone around him. Also fuck him and his damn empathy too.

Jason doesn't need it, doesn't need any of them, not their help and certainly not Bruce's money. He tells himself that, yet at the same time...

"I guess it won't be so bad to let him do the heavy lifting, huh?" He asks Damian as he carries him to the bathroom. "We can rope Bruce into it too, since half the stuff you've got already is his fault. Well technically it's Alfred's fault, but we like Alfred." It's easier to talk to Damian than anyone else Jason has ever known, but it probably wouldn't be fair to use his own kid as a therapist. "No," he continues, mostly to himself, "It wouldn't be so bad."

Dick was trying. Hell, Bruce was even trying, as much as Jason tried to dig his heels in every step of the way. He could have been a hell of a lot more brutal with his demands for Jason's cooperation than he had been and Jason knows it. He'd just needed time to see it after that emotionally charged conversation in the middle of the night.

Jason stops just inside the bathroom door, pausing to give Damian a tighter hug. His son tucks his head underneath Jason's own, chubby fingers playing with the ends of his curling hair and Jason knows with every fibre of his being that they'll be okay as long as they're together.

His family is trying, so the least Jason can do is try too. For his sons sake if nothing else.


	7. Epilogue

_Four months later_

"This is too much."

"No," Roy responds without missing a beat, "This is a two year-old's birthday party."

"Little generous to call it a party, dontcha think? There's only two kids here." Jason's lips quirk up in a smile as Lian and Damian run past them again, the little beta girl - six months older than Damian - leading his son by the hand as they make a circuit of the guests in attendance. 

It's only the third time they've met in person but they already seem to be fast friends. The first time, over two months ago, Jason had worried that Damian wouldn't know how to interact with someone his own age, however his fears had proved unfounded. It had only taken a few minutes of facing off against each other, baby growling and all, for the two to settle into a hierachy and bond.

Jason does have to give it to Roy, he's raising a hell of a kid, and the fact that Lian's a few months ahead of Damian developmentally means he's also a fountain of information for all the things Jason doesn't know yet. He'll unashamedly admit that he pretty much uses Roy for his parenting advice.

"It's the spirit of the thing that matters." Roy shrugs, grinning as well and lifting his phone to snap another photo of the kids hanging onto the wheels of Barbara's chair. "Damian seems happy enough."

Jason rolls his eyes, nudging his foot into the mountain of opened presents next to the buffet table while he keeps an eye out for any sign of his son going too far in bothering Oracle. From the looks of things she has them well in hand, as to be expected of the first (and best) Batgirl. "Of course he doesn't mind, he's being spoiled rotten. I have no idea how I'm even going to get all this stuff home, especially with your fat ass occupying a seat since you're too cheap to pay for a hotel. I'll need like two extra cars."

" _My_ fat ass?" Roy scoffs, "You're the giant omega in the room."

Jason snorts back at him, "I'm an inch taller than you, jerk. One inch. We're both giants by that standard."

"And yet my ass is so much trimmer."

"In your dreams soccer mom."

"Hey guys!" Dick appears at Roy's side, carrying three colourful balls in his hand from the juggling set he'd been using to entertain the children earlier. "What are we talking about?"

"Roy's fat ass."

"Jason's fatter ass." Roy adds a second after Jason, ignoring the way he glares at him.

Dick's eyes shoot between them, looking both delightfully wrongfooted and a little like he might be regretting introducing Jason and Roy to each other all over again, "Uh, that... that is not a conversation I should get in the middle of, is it?"

Roy claps him on the shoulder, snickering, "It's really better if you don't. Though I already know you think my ass is better, so it's okay, you don't have to say it out loud."

"Riiight... Anyway," Dick shakes his head and smiles at Jason, "Alfred wanted me to tell you he's going to bring the cake out in ten minutes, so we should try and wrangle the kids into position so they don't set anything on fire."

"I resent the implication that Lian would set anything on fire." Says Roy, shoving his finger into Dick's chest, "And on that note, be right back, bathroom break." and takes off immediately, leaving Jason and Dick alone together as they share an exasperated look over the archer's quirks.

"Don't look at me like that, he was your friend first."

Dick laughs, "Yeah, but now I have you to share the responsibility with."

"Damian's responsibility enough, you can keep Roy to yourself." Jason pushes himself away from the buffet table and stretches, grabbing one last piece of Alfred's excellent quiche lorraine and shoving it into his mouth before heading over to Barbara and the kids. Dick puts the juggling set down and follows at his heels a moment later.

They pass Tim and Cassandra on the way over, the pair of them bent over a laptop screen together looking at something that had both of them grinning. According to Jason's therapist it's a point of progress that he's invited Tim to attend; Jason on the other hand calls it avoiding the looks of disappointment and rebuke he'd receive from everyone else if he didn't. He can even grudgingly admit - after a few tense conversations mediated over by Dick - that the kid isn't entirely bad, or at least that he hadn't actively set out to steal anything from Jason.

But that doesn't mean he won't forever treasure the memory of Damian biting Tim in his defence during their first meeting.

"Babs." Jason nods to her as he drops down to his haunches, reaching to tickle his fingers up the sides of Damian's ribs. He's wearing a Superman shirt today, courtesy of Dick's unique gift giving skills.

"Boy Wonders." Barbara greets them as Damian bursts into laughter, her fingers running through Lian's dark hair as she works on straightening the little girls pigtails. There's a smile on her face, one plainly meant more for Dick than Jason and he can't blame her for still being wary of him. Barbara is almost as much of a protective hardass as Bruce, but Jason also knows she's been running surveillance on the new apartment he lives in with Damian when no one else can.

Maybe if he'd reached out to her first instead of steaming ahead with his plan for revenge things would be different, considering that out of everyone Barbara is the one person who comes closest to being able to understand what the Joker had taken from him, and vice versa. Then again, if he hadn't gone through with his plan so many things would be different to begin with. It's just another regret, like so many others.

"Momma," Damian pulls on his arm, pointing excitedly at Barbara like he's made some amazing discovery (and like he's never seen one before). " _Wheel_ chair."

Jason makes sure to look appropriately impressed. "Wow, buddy. How about that."

"Ride it!"

"Uh, no." He puts the brakes on that idea quickly. "That's Barbara's chair, Damian. She needs it, it's not a toy."

Damian's eyebrows draw down into an impressive frown, he points at the chair again. "Ride it."

Oh great, this is going to be a thing, Jason can tell. Five minutes before the cake comes out and Damian's looking to throw a tantrum. Worse is the fact that Lian echoes him a second later, looking similarly enthusiastic for the idea. 

_Kids_.

"Damian..." Jason says in low warning, bracing himself. "I said -"

"How about you ride on my shoulders instead, little D?" Dick intervenes, coming to the rescue even though that nickname still manages to make Jason's shoulders twitch. Barbara clearly knows it too as she bites down on a grin. "Birthday boys get shoulder rides."

Jason watches Damian think about this, sucking on his (hopefully clean) fingers before nodding. He lifts his arms up to Dick, "Up, Unca Duck!"

"Up." Dick agrees, and Jason moves out of the way so he can swing Damian up and onto his shoulders. "Hold on tight okay?"

"Kay!"

The disaster is almost entirely diverted, except Lian immediately starts to look unhappy about being left out. "I wan' up too." She says, pouting next to Barbara in a way that makes Jason start to look for some sign of Roy coming back from his bathroom break. No such luck, so he decides to try some diplomacy.

"You can ride on Dick's shoulders after Damian." He points out, "Right, Dick?"

"Right." Dick answers without missing a beat, swaying from side to side and suppressing a wince as Damian pulls on his hair. "Everyone gets a turn."

"What a hero." Barbara finishes fixing Lian's hair and Dick winks at her, at both of them Jason thinks. Or maybe wants to think. "I think that sounds very fair."

Lian pouts, still unhappy but momentarily pacified, levelling Dick with a look that makes Jason think she could be a shrewd negotiator someday. "Don't forget."

"I won't forget."

"Cross your heart?" 

Solemnly Dick takes a hand off one of Damian's legs, making Jason nervously watch to make sure his son isn't about to pitch himself backwards out of excitement (a possibility with cake due to appear at any moment), and draws an X across his heart. This satisfies Lian, who goes back to being the cheerful little girl she was moments before instead of a potential hurricane, pestering Barbara and Dick with questions.

Jason lets himself sink back a little as they talk. 

Four months of being on Bat parole and he's still not used to this. Four months of having Damian back and having a pack that wants to know his son, that wants to see Jason come back onto the straight and narrow even if he himself doesn't, and he's still not used to it. He keeps waiting for Bruce to change his mind, or for himself to make a slip up, or even for armed ninja's to appear out of the night when Talia inevitably gets over her bruised pride and decides she won't let Damian go so easily after all. 

Sometimes he wakes up at night drenched in sweat for fear of that, amidst the usual nightmares of the Joker's laughter and the taste of gravedirt in his mouth.

Yet at the same time he can't regret his choice to stay. Damian is happy here with a wealth of family around to shower him in love and affection, offering him more than Jason ever could alone. Everytime Jason starts to consider running, when he's chaffing at the bit or comes back furious from a therapy session, he forces himself to remember that. Being on the run is no life for a kid.

"Jay?"

Jason blinks, then looks sharply to the left and behind himself, at Bruce who has just appeared out of freaking nowhere. Spacial awareness, he's apparently sucking at it. "Uh, yeah B?"

"Are you all right?" Bruce is dressed down for the occasion, just slacks and a shirt with the top button undone. His eyes are fixed on Jason, but there's a upward tilt to the corners of his mouth as they listen to the children chattering nearby.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just... Damian's come a long way, you know. He's doing good." From a boy who'd been so quiet at first, uncertain of his new surroundings and the people around him. He'd blossomed under the positive attention, and while still wary of those he didn't know Damian was a complete delight amongst his family. 

Bruce's smile becomes more obvious, "He has. And so have you, Jason."

Jason looks away from him, shrugging uncomfortably. "I'm just doing what I have to for him. That's all."

He doesn't expect it when Bruce's hand touches the back of his neck, gently squeezing in a reassuring gesture that Jason remembers from his Robin days. Back then it was an expression of praise, always reserved for when Jason had done something truly impressive on a mission and even now it makes him instantly relax, sinking back into Bruce's touch.

"Jason, you've done more than that. You've gone beyond what I initially asked of you, you're trying in every sense of the word." The man who was his alpha says quietly, coffee-and-bourbon scent soothing over Jason's nerves. No one here today is wearing neutraliser and the air is awash with scent, making the gathering feel all the more homely. "I know I haven't made it easy for you, but..." Bruce hesitates and Jason can practically see him chewing on the words before he gets them out. "It means a lot to me. I'm proud of you, son."

Stunned, Jason swallows thickly. He can't believe the words he just heard. "B, I -"

The side door opens, heralding Alfred's arrival with the cake, a sweet chocolate monstrosity that probably has more sugar in it than Jason would normally allow Damian to have in a week except for the fact that it's his birthday. Whatever he was about to say to Bruce is lost to the moment as the whole pack rises and gathers around Damian to sing 'Happy Birthday'. Jason just can't stop himself from grinning as Dick swings Damian down from his shoulders to a level where he can attempt to blow out his candles.

It takes three tries, and Roy (who reappeared just in time) has to hold Lian back from trying to help. Tim's camera flashes as he captures the moment for posterity and it's strangely, incredibly, _wonderfully_ perfect as the kids dig into the first slices of cake.

Even later, when he's in the car driving home with two cake-covered toddlers crashed out on sugar sleeping in the back and Roy chattering about nonsense in the passenger seat, Jason's still smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done for this story! Thank you so much to everyone reading, your words and kudos have been a fantastic inspiration throughout.
> 
> There's likely to be a few weeks before I start focusing on the sequel to this story, both because I need a break to figure out more of the plot beyond JayDick happening and want to crank out some other fic ideas I've been sitting on. Rest assured though that it is coming!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at http://crumpeting.tumblr.com/!


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